A New Calling
by Mandrs
Summary: Trying to find a cure for her blighted blood, Lynara Mahariel, fabled Hero of Ferelden, attempts to convene with Thedas' most powerful mages at the Conclave. When the Breach tears a hole in the sky and a strange mark is left on her hand, Lynara must test her endurance and resolve as she is forced to save the world once again, this time with a bloodied, broken heart. Solas/Mahariel.
1. Fate's Hand

For ten years, Lynara had known a feint, tingling sensation, long fingers tickling the back of her neck. Whispers of a dark tongue licking at her mind. It was always there, ever present, no matter where she was, or what she was doing. The sensation would crest and fall in response to waves of the Darkspawn's presence. Those hushed whispers would turn to a loud hiss demanding her attention if the dark danger approached. The hiss sent shivers down her spine, her teeth would clench in response as fear set in deep within her gut. But such an extreme sensations had not graced her mind in such a long time, and for that she was grateful.

But the dull sensation was always there, it's chilling touch ever running a cold finger down her neck. It would always be there for as long as she lived, she knew this, and she hated it. Hated the way it haunted her dreams at night, turning her peaceful slumbers into broken nightmares of evil creatures clawing and eating away at her flesh as her screams bounced around an empty cavern of stone in the lonely deep roads, falling on no ears. It was a nightmare that made sweat stain her sheets, her fingers always clawed at the fabric as they hopelessly tried to hold on to life as she knew it. Lynara had dedicated years of her life looking for a way to cure her tainted blood, to try and find some release from the ever present anxiety crawling up the back of her neck. It was her ever present fear that these nightmares may just one day become her reality.

She never expected her release would actually come, and especially not the way it had.

The tingling at the back of her skull was replaced by a sharp pain that made her groan as her eyes fluttered open. Her head was swimming in a dark pool of confusion as she came to. A shrill ring echoed through her ears, and when she reached up to pinch them shut, she was met with resistance.

Cold chains clasped her hands together, holding her against the stone floor of her prison. With a shake of her head, she tried to wish the pain away, clear the clouds from her mind. As the clouds slowly dissipated, as the sharp pain in her skull began to dull, she realized that the tingling-the dark whispers-were gone. Its absence made her thoughts feel quiet, like a part of herself was no more.

She breathed a breath so deep that when she released she could feel a laugh escaping her lips. The laugh shook her chest, making her cough at the pain that shot throughout her whole body. Her mind was reeling-Clear and cloudy at the same time as she tried to remember what exactly brought her to being restrained in a cold, dark prison. As she tried to remember what caused the taint in her blood to release her from her dark fate.

Her thoughts were abruptly interrupted as the wood door before her slammed open, revealing two women in front of her. One was a woman with short black hair, scathing brown eyes and a scowl that could make a man cry. The other woman that trailed behind her was shrouded in a light purple cloak but she could see orange hair bounce forward as she stepped down the stairs. A familiarity panged inside Lynara's chest at the sight. The way this woman held herself with grace and confidence, hands behind her back, chin pointed high with curiosity as she peered down at the restrained elf was all too familiar.

Lynara watched as Cassandra's gaze was seething over her skin. The woman's dark eyes lingered on her face, her armor, her hands, as she observed her prisoner. Lynara was wearing mage robes that were dark in color, with a cloak that was black and crimson underneath. Solid metal armor painted black covered her right shoulder and arm and dark leather boots came over her knees. A crimson colored leather belt was tightened around her narrow waist and several pouches sat at on her hip, which were now empty. Lynara knew that her captures would be able to tell that she was a seasoned mage by the vestments that she wore.

"Tell me why we shouldn't kill you now," the woman with the dark hair cut through the silence with a knife, her voice sharp and fast. "The Conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead. Except for you."

The accusations in her voice rang clear in the hollow room. Lynara bowed her head, her loosely braided hair was coming undone, falling into her eyes. Still trying to overcome the dull pain in her skull, she shook her head. "You think I'm responsible," she said, more of a statement than a question.

"Explain this!" the woman moved quickly, jerking up Lynara's restrained hand and shoving the green, glowing mark into elf's face. Lynara's emerald eyes grew even greener as the glowing light bathed over her shocked expression. The mark in her hand burned, aching for some kind of release.

"I...can't," Lynara breathed, just as bewildered as the woman before her. She had never seen the mark before in her life and for whatever reason, she could not remember how the mark had come to find a home on her hand. Did this mark have something to do with the lack of whispers in her mind, she wondered. She willed herself to look back at what happened before, but she was blocked by a wall that was made of dark, hazy stone. She couldn't see past it.

"What do you mean you can't?"

"I don't know what that is or how it got there."

"You're lying!" the woman seethed, stalking forward like a wolf, looking as if she was about to strike. Lynara stiffened, readying herself for the pain.

"We need her, Cassandra," a voice flitted softly over Lynara's ears and it held a musical quality that she recognized from her past. A light and kind voice with a soft Orlesian accent that reminded her of nights spent by the fire, listening to stories best known to an Orlesian Bard.

"Leliana," Lynara breathed, realizing who the other woman was even before looking up to meet her soft blue eyes.

"You know this woman?" Cassandra said, looking back at her companion, her face was unreadable in the shadows of the room.

"An old friend," Leliana said with a soft smile pulling at her lips. It had been ten years since they had seen each other last. Lynara's heart dropped to her stomach, a guilt hung there that she couldn't quite place. For ten long years she had not spoken to anyone from her travelling party during the blight. She never thought she would see them again, to be honest. And now, here she was, face to face with one of her close friends from before. "Lynara, do you remember what happened? How this all began?"

Still in shock, Lynara shook her head, feeling the weight of confusion pulling on the pain in her forehead. "I remember running. Something was chasing me. And then… a woman?" she explained, looking down at her restrained hands. She felt a slight annoyance that their reunion had been under hostile, albeit strange, circumstances.

"A woman?" Leliana repeated with a tone of surprise. Her blue eyes were weary, as she investigated every corner of the elf's face.

"She reached out to me, but then…" Lynara trailed off, shaking her head. She could not remember what happened next. The next thing she knew she was sitting on the cold stone floor of her cell, bound and confused.

"Go to the forward camp, Leliana. I'll take her to the rift," Cassandra said, dismissing the red haired woman. She nodded in obligation, her eyes lingering on her old friend for a moment before smiling sadly. Lynara stared after the woman, she wondered what her old friend was doing at the conclave, wondered if she believed her guilty of killing so many people. Why did she smile as she did, eyes full of what seemed to be remorse... or was it empathy? Lynara could not decide.

As Lynara watched Leliana leave, Cassandra came forward to release her from her manacles, but replaced the steal bindings with rope, as a precaution. "What did happen?" she asked the dark haired woman.

She was met with hard eyes, a grim stare. "It'll be easier to show you."

Cassandra led her outside, where the Beach churned in the darkened sky, pulsating green, electric energy. It's lightning tendrils reached through the heavens, pulling at the veil that held the mysteries of the Beyond at bay. Lynara's eyes widened at the sight, her stomach churning at the sky coming undone.

"We call it the Breach," Cassandra began to explain, a frown pulling at her lips and she followed Lynara's gaze up to the angry hole in the sky. "It's a massive rift into the world of demons that grows larger with each passing hour. It's not the only such rift, just the largest. All were caused by the explosions at the conclave." Lynara had never heard of such power being able to cause a rift between the two worlds. What had happened that night, she wondered. Her skull pounded as she tried to remember.

"An explosion can do that?" She said through gritted teeth. She wondered if the explosion had caused the mark to attach itself to her hand. And if that said mark is what kept the whispers at bay. Was the cursed taint truly gone? She couldn't know for sure.

"This one did. Unless we act the breach may grow until it swallows the world," Cassandra's voice held a sad note and her eyes were focused on the mark on Lynara's hand. Lynara, still engrossed by the Breach, watched as it pulsated through the sky, green lightning resonating the entire earth. The pulse reached her being, and the mark on her hand released a green magic so intense, it made Lynara collapse to the ground. A groan of pain escaped her lips as the power of the mark in her hand pulsed and burned. Her eyes clenched shut as she tried to will the pain to stop, but it refused. "W-why?" she spat through clenched teeth.

Finally the pulsating thunder in the sky stopped, and so too did the pain. She sat on her heels, breathing heavily as she tried to regain her composure. The pain in her hand subsided but she felt ever the more confused.

"Each time the Breach expands, your mark spreads…" Cassandra began to explain, reaching over to help Lynara to her feet. Her voice continued with a hint of compassion, an empathetic look replacing her stern stare, "and it is killing you. However, it may be the key to stopping this. But there isn't much time."

"It seems I don't really have a choice in this," Lynara said, a bitter laugh cutting into her words. She didn't have a choice ten years ago when she was recruited as a Grey Warden, and she didn't have a choice now. Fate had a strange way of toying with her life, putting her on paths she had no choice but to follow. Now was no different, she realized with bitter resentment to whatever Gods weaved her fated tapestry.

"None of us has a choice," Cassandra said, lifting Lynara to her feet with one swift motion. Was that true? Lynara thought. Surely Cassandra and Leliana and all of these people could walk away if they so pleased. But their morals told them they must stay and stop the hole in the sky from growing. No, it was not the same, Lynara decided. She could not walk away, she had no free will in this matter.

Cassandra gently pulled Lynara along towards the Breach in the sky. As they passed, villagers scowled at the bound elf, all their grief was turned into resentment towards her. "They have already decided your guilt. They need it. The people of Haven mourn our Most Holy, Divine Justinia, head of the Chantry. The conclave was hers. It was a chance for peace between mages and templars. She brought their leaders together and now… they are dead."

The people around her watched with furrowed brows, grimaces distorting their tired faces. Lynara peered back at them with curiosity, did they not recognize who she was? She wondered if Cassandra even knew who she was escorting through this once familiar town. Memories of Haven flooded back to her as her eyes trailed over snow capped mountains, as man made bridges and arches mingled with coniferous trees, all covered in a pure white snow. Last time she stepped foot in this region, the people looked at her with the same expressions, but for very different reasons. How things don't ever seem to change, Lynara thought, an ironic smile pulling at the corner of her mouth.

The two women stepped through a gate, and Cassandra turned to Lynara, pulling out a dagger. Stiffening, Lynara looked at the crude weapon with widened eyes, did she mean to decide her guilt here and now?

"Do not worry," she said, reading Lynara's expression. "There will be a trial, but I can promise no more." She reached forward, gently cutting Lynara's bindings. With her hands finally free, she rubbed at her wrists with a sigh of relief. With her new found freedom, she reached up to run her fingers through her tangled hair, releasing the leather strap that held her hair into a loose braid. Running her fingers through the blonde wavy tendrils, she loosened her hair, letting it come free.

"Come it's not far," Cassandra turned, setting off onto their path up the mountain.

"Where are you taking me?" Lynara asked, her voice hinting at frustration as she was forced to follow.

"We need to see if your mark truly is able to close the Breach. But we must test it on something smaller first," she explained.

As they pushed forward, Lynara began to see the destruction around her, making this Haven look much different than the one of her past. The bridge before her was covered in rubble. Injured soldiers leaned up against crates, another one laying next to them on his side, rocking back and forth. So much blood, Lynara noticed with a frown, so much death. The smell of death reached her nose and she grimaced, hating the way that it made her remember all the lives she had witnessed lost so many years ago.

"Open the gates! We're headed into the valley," Cassandra demanded with an air of authority. They obliged, allowing the two women to continue down into the valley leading up to the mountain. More corpses, more dead, Lynara realized looking away quickly, stomach churning at the sight of it all.

A pulse echoed through the sky, vibrating the very earth beneath Lynara's feet. Sharp, snapping pain pulled at her marked skin as she extended it away from her body, wishing for the very hole in the sky to swallow up her arm to stop the pain. A curdled scream wretched from her chest as she fell to the ground.

"The pulses are coming faster now. The larger the Breach grows, the more rifts appear, the more demons we face," Cassandra rushed to Lynara's side, helping her to her feet once again.

"How did I survive the blast?" Lynara tried to say through ragged breaths. The pain abruptly stopped but her body was still trying to regain normalcy after the attack.

"They said you.. Stepped out of a rift, then fell unconscious. They say a woman was in the rift behind you. No one knows who she was. Everything farther in the valley was laid waste, including the Temple of Sacred ashes. I suppose you'll see soon enough," Cassandra explained while leading Lynara onto their chosen path.

Her words brought back the memory for just a brief moment before it flitted away into the back of her mind. She didn't want to think of it, of the Darkspawn that chased after her snapping and clawing at her flesh as a woman bathed in golden light urged her to escape.

As they crossed another bridge, the stone underneath their feet began to rumble but it was not due to the breach growing this time. Lynara looked up swiftly to see a meteor hurtling from the hole in the sky, coming straight for bridge. Grabbing Cassandra, by the forearm, she pulled her back, away from the meteor as fast as she could. But it was too late. The meteor crashed into the bridge, the stone around them cracked and shattered, giving way and breaking apart. Losing her footing, Lynara stumbled and slid off of the bridge, crashing down onto the hard ice beneath her. Carefully she pulled herself up, making sure the ice wasn't about to give way under her weight. With every bone in her body protesting as she stood, she realized that she was somehow okay, as was Cassandra, who was dusting herself off just a few feet away.

Their eyes met and they shared a sigh of relief which was cut short by dark presence pulling their attention away from each other. An eerie groan resonated in the distance as a dark form manifested from the earth. A human like figure cloaked in shadow, covered in dark sinewy skin and glowing red eyes lurched towards them. A Shade Demon, Lynara realized.

"Stay behind me!" Cassandra demanded as she unsheathed her sword, bashing the hilt against her shield to grab the Shade's attention. The Shade focused on the warrior, ignoring Lynara who stood behind her.

Ignoring what Cassandra commanded, Lynara summoned the power of frost to her fingertips, flinging the wintery grasp at the Shade, freezing it in its path. Tapping into the fade, she stepped forward, flying towards her enemy, nearly invisible. Once behind the Shade, she called upon a spirit blade that manifested easily into her hand. With once fell swipe, she brought the blade down onto demon, shattering it into many frozen pieces.

"It's over," Lynara said between breaths, a smile pulling at her lips. It felt good to be able to fight again, the flow of power humming through her veins gave her a sense of purpose.

"Drop your weapon, now!" Cassandra demanded. Lynara raised a delicate blonde eyebrow at the woman who was now pointing her weapon at the elvhen mage. Her smile widened deeper at the realization that Cassandra had no idea who she was with after all.

"Of course," Lynara said, cocking her head to the side as the spirit blade in her had dissipated back into the fade. "Not like I need a weapon to be dangerous, but if it will ease your mind…"

"Is that supposed to reassure me?" Cassandra bit back, her thick eyebrows burrowing together.

Lynara laughed. "I haven't used my magic on you yet."

"You're right," Cassandra said with a huff, sheathing her sword and shield once again. "I cannot protect you, and I cannot expect you to be defenseless." Lynara's eyes found a staff in a pile of rubble left by the collapsed bridge. She didn't need a staff to use magic, but it certainly helped. She walked over to it, picked it up and felt the power that resonated through the wood. It hummed against the palms of her hands.

"I should remember you did not try to run away from all of this," Cassandra said, watching Lynara wearily as she placed the staff onto her back.

"And I will not run," Lynara said, trying to reassure Cassandra. "If I am the only one who can close the Breach, than I must try." The words reminded her of another time, another promise. _If I am the only one who can stop the blight, than I must try._ The words echoed in her mind and she shook her head, trying to ignore the weary pang in her heart.

Cassandra seemed pleased by this as a smile pinched her cheeks. "Good, than let us continue."

Climbing the mountain had not been an easy task as demons continued to appear, forcing Cassandra and Lynara into combat several times. Each time, they were able to dispatch their enemies without a scratch, but Lynara could feel her energy draining with each encounter. After the third fight, Cassandra looked back at Lynara, concern pulling at her amber eyes.

"You look rather pale," she said bluntly. "Are you okay?" Lynara's chest was heaving as she tried to catch her breath. A thin sheen of sweat broke out over her skin, despite the cold that enveloped her.

"I think the mark is weakening me," Lynara explained. She had dedicated her life to fighting, beginning her fight at the young age of seventeen when she was conscripted into the Grey Wardens. She had fought in many battles since that fated day eleven years ago. As a skilled knight enchanter, she should not feel so tired after three consecutive battles, but her body was shutting down nonetheless.

"Then we must hurry," Cassandra said sternly, leading the way forward. Lynara obliged, leaning on her staff as she pushed up the mountain.

"We're getting close to the rift. You can hear the fighting," Cassandra explained, anticipation clear in her voice.

"Who's fighting?"

"You'll see soon. We must help them," Cassandra started to run towards the noise, her shield and sword in hand. Lynara cursed under her breath as she took a deep breath and followed after the warrior, mustering all the strength she could find.

They crested the hill and below them she could see a small ruin. Within it was a bright, pointed crystal of green that bursted into pure light as she approached. The rift opened, light reflecting against the green fade energy, demons pouring out to clash with a dwarven archer, an elvhen mage, and two human soldiers. The mark on her hand glowed in response to the rift, tingling with so much power that it stung Lynara's skin. The power surging through the mark gave her a sudden burst of energy and she hurried down into the ruins, joining the fray with Cassandra at her side.

Cassandra bellowed a rallying cry, grabbing the attention of several shades, as well as a couple wraiths and a rage demon. Lynara stood back, surprised to see so many demons at once. It was something she hadn't seen since her time at Ferelden's Circle. The growl of the rage demon as it stretched it's fiery body upward made her spine tingle with a memory so vivid that she clenched her jaw and growled back at it. Images of demons tearing apart innocent mages flashed across her mind and her own rage began to boil inside her chest.

Outstretching her arms, she let forward a flurry of ice from her chest. The magic spiraled forward, striking the rage demon several times, slowing its movements as cold magic stifled its flames. Carelessly and blinded by her rage, she shifted forward through the air so fast that she appeared behind the demon in a second, pulling her spirit blade from the fade itself.

When she reached up to strike, she suddenly felt the warm embrace of a spirit barrier being cast around her and she looked up to see the elvhen mage watching her with concern as a shade approached her from behind. Her eyes followed his and found the shade behind her, bringing its sharp claw down on her barrier. In a panic, she laid down a disruption field, the shade and rage demon moving slowly in the hazy magic. She pushed backwards, unleashing a set of fire mines underneath the demons. As they moved, even just a little, the mines exploded, burning away at the shade. The rage demon, resistant to fire, continued to push towards Lynara. She let out a fierce cry and pierced the spirit blade through the demon. It writhed in pain, letting a brutal growl echo through the mountain pass as it disappeared into the earth.

Cassandra finished off the last of the wraiths and it seemed that all the demons had been dealt with. Eyes transfixed on the pulsating rift before her, she did not see the elvhen mage approach. He swiftly grabbed her marked hand and held it up to the rift. A strange, powerful magic throbbed from her hand as the energy within her mark reached out to the rift. She stood there, several moments, green eyes glowing as she watched the mark on her hand stitch the tear in the sky.

As the elvhen mage pulled away her hand, the rift closed shut, the potent energy of the fade dissipating before her very eyes. "What did you do?" Lynara asked, searching the elvhen man's face for answers. Her eyes trailed over his face, finding deep, knowing eyes, fair and smooth skin that was pulled tight over sharp cheekbones and a bald head. She found no answers, just more questions as she felt a strange, fluttering resonate in her stomach.

"I did nothing," he said, his eyes dropping to her hand that was still clutched in his. He let go with an apologetic smile. "The credit is yours."

"At least it's good for something," Lynara said, holding her hand up to her face, a frown pulling at her lips. It was killing her, this much she knew. But somehow, she could live with that. She had known for ten years that she would die young, it was a fate she could not escape.

"Whatever magic opened the Breach in the sky also placed that mark upon your hand. I theorized the mark might be able to close the rifts that have opened in the Breach's wake-and it seems I was correct," Solas explained, his hands coming together behind his back. The way he spoke was so regal, Lynara noted. His accent was something she could not place, even after years of travelling across Thedas, she had never heard anyone speak as he did. Solas raised a slender eyebrow at her. She realized she was staring and quickly looked away, a soft blush burning her cheeks.

"Meaning it could also close the Breach itself," Cassandra said.

"Possibly," Solas said, looking away from Lynara towards that human woman. Lynara relaxed her shoulders in relief, she had not realized she had been so stiff under his gaze. "It seems you hold the key to our salvation," he returned his attention to Lynara and her reprieve was short lived. She tensed at his words as a cold realization washed over her.

_Again? I don't want to do this again. Find another hero to save the world. I'm retired_. She wanted to say. She wanted to run, to go back to wondering Thedas, reading books, learning culture, studying the arcane. _Saving the world? I've already done that,_ she thought selfishly.

"Good to know! Here I thought we'd be ass-deep in demons forever," the dwarf bellowed, approaching Lynara with a coy smile on his face. "Varric Tethras: rouge, storyteller, and occasionally unwelcome tagalong." Cassandra rolled her eyes at him.

Lynara looked down at the dwarf. He was unlike any of the dwarves she had ever met. He was clean shaven with blonde, slicked back hair. His air of confidence was punctuated with the strange crossbow he had in his hands.

"That's a nice crossbow you have there," Lynara blurted, curious about the weapons design. In all her experience with dwarves, she had never seen such a weapon, even during her time in Orzammar.

"Ah, isn't she? Bianca and I have been through a lot together," he said, patting the crossbow with his hand.

"You named your crossbow Bianca?" she asked with a raise of an eyebrow. Yes, he was definitely unlike any dwarf she had ever met.

"Of course! And she'll be great company in the valley."

"Absolutely not," Cassandra interrupted, her stern gaze focused on Varric. "Your help is appreciated, Varric, but-"

"Have you been in the valley lately, Seeker? Your soldiers aren't in control anymore. You need me," he said with a smug smile, his chin pointed high towards the Seeker. She scoffed at him, rolling her eyes. There was a history between them, Lynara decided. A history she didn't want to come between.

"My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions. I'm pleased to see you still live," Solas said, peering kindly at Lynara and bowing his head every so slightly.

"The name's Lynara," she said, confused by his words. _Have we met before?_ she wondered.

"He means, 'I kept that mark from killing you while you slept," Varric teased.

"You seem to know a great deal about all of this," Lynara stated, slightly skeptic. His knowledge, his confidence, and the mystery behind who he was made her weary, if not curious. He wore no Dalish vallaslin and he did not appear to be a circle mage based on his attire. He wore a white tunic with an earthen green vestment and travelers pack. His leather breeches were dark in color. She noticed that his boots did not cover the soles of his feet, which was most curious. Such was a Dalish custom. _Where did he come from_.

"Like you, Solas is an apostate," Cassandra explained. Lynara bristled at the word apostate. It was supposed to be worn as a badge of shame, but she felt no shame in who she was. She was born Dalish, born free of humanity's rules. And when she became a Grey Warden, she was an apostate no more by humanity's standard. She has never regarded herself as such, and hearing it now after everything she's done for Thedas only angered her.

Solas watched Lynara carefully as she shifted her weight and crossed her arms over her chest, her eyebrows furrowed over her cold green eyes. There seemed to be a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth that he was trying to repress. "Technically all mages are now apostates, Cassandra," he shot at her, a coy look twinkling in his eyes. "My travels have allowed me to learn much of the Fade, far beyond the experience of any Circle mage. I came to offer whatever help I can give with the Breach. If it is not closed, we are all doomed regardless of origin."

"And what will you do once this is all over?" Lynara wondered out loud, surprised by her own candor.

"One hopes that those in power will remember who helped, and who did not," he said with a strange glint in his eye that she could not read. He continued, "Cassandra, you should know: the magic involved here is unlike any I have ever seen. Your prisoner is a mage, but I find it difficult to imagine any mage having such power."

"Understood. We must get to the forward camp quickly," Cassandra said, pushing forward.

"Well, Bianca's excited!" Varric said, following Cassandra.

"This way, down the bank. The road ahead is blocked," the dark haired woman led the way with confidence towards the Breach. For ten years she searched for a way to be rid of the whispers, to be rid of the nightmares, of darkspawn consuming her entire being. She never imagined that she would finally be rid of them, only to have a new threat clawing up her arm. A new way to die right around the corner, she grimaced at the thought.

"We must move quickly," Solas said, looking back at Lynara who was still standing back, looking at the mark on her hand, a frown pulling at her mouth. His smooth voice snapped her from her thoughts and she looked up to see his crystal blue eyes beckoning her forward. She dropped her hand to her side and nodded. Stepping forward, she carefully followed the thread that fate's cold hand pulled her on.


	2. A Journey Far From Over

Hazy green light of the fade distorted everything, blurring the lines of reality. The once beautiful Temple of Sacred Ashes was now a mere pile of rubble and all around them, charred bodies of man reached for their Maker in the last moments of their life. The air hummed with electricity and Lynara's hand burned for release.

Above her, the fade churned in the sky, green and growling as debris from the other side fell through the tear in the heavens. Her breath caught in her throat as she stared into the other side. How many times she had visited it in her dreams and to be so physically close was truly a wonderful horror.

"This is your chance to end this," Cassandra cut through Lynara's thoughts. She tore her attention from the hole in the sky, focusing her gaze on Cassandra's stern gaze.

"I'll try," she said feebly. "But I don't know if I can reach that, much less close it." It seemed an impossible task, even more impossible that defeating the blight. She could easily stab the archedemon with her blade, but this? She did not know how to win against this.

She saw Solas shake his head from the corner of her eye. "No. This rift was the first and is the key. Seal it, and perhaps we seal the Breach," he explained. She raised a curious eyebrow. So confident and sure of himself, she realized. It seemed as though he had an answer for everything.

"Then let's find a way down. And be careful," Cassandra said, leading the way down a flight of broken stairs. As they descended down into the cavity of the ruin, the veil became thinner, a static energy making the hairs on Lynara's skin bristle.

"Now is the hour of our victory. Bring forth the sacrifice," a deep voice oozed through the green haze. The voice was strangely familiar, pulling at a painful memory buried at the back of Lynara's skull.

"What are we hearing?" Cassandra breathed, eyes wide and searching.

"At a guess: The person who created the breach," Solas said.

Through the pale green atmosphere, a crimson red glowed against the haze, pulling the party's attention to a pointed, jagged crystal sprouting from the earth. "You know this stuff is red lyrium, Seeker," Varric said, an edge of unease in his voice.

"I see it," Cassandra growled.

"But what is it doing here?"

"Magic could have drawn on lyrium beneath the temple, corrupted it…" Solas explained.

"It's evil. Whatever you do, don't touch it," Varric said, making it a point to go the long way around to avoid the lyrium, but Lynara paid the dwarf no attention. She couldn't help herself but she was entranced by it, a familiar whisper inside the crystal called to her. Face bathed in red as she stepped closer to it, the whispers tingled the back of her neck.

"Lynara!" Solas called, placing a firm hand on her upper arm, pulling her away from the lyrium. She turned to him, eyes wide as she caught his hardened eyes glaring at her.

"I-What?" Her hand came up to rub at the back of her neck. _What was I doing? _The calling of the lyrium lingered on her neck, but the whispers were gone. "I'm sorry. I don't know what overcame me," she said, looking away and pulling away from his grasp.

"You must be more careful."

"There was-" She started to say, wanting to explain her moment of weakness. She wanted to explain that there was something familiar about the corruption inside the lyrium, but she caught herself, not wanting to reveal herself just yet. She was enjoying their ignorance. "Nevermind."

Solas looked disappointed for a moment, and then nodded before turning away, his expression returning to a blank visage that was impossible to read.

The veil continued to weaken as they got closer to the first rift, the burning on her hand becoming more and more intense. "Keep the sacrifice still," that familiar deep voice growled through the air once more.

"Someone help me!" This time, a woman's voice pierced the atmosphere. It made Lynara's ears twitch with an unknown fear.

"That is Divine Justinia's Voice!" Cassandra exclaimed, hurrying towards the sound. The rift came into view and the mark on Lynara's hand flared with a new kind of intensity. The pain that shot through her arm was manageable, but the power she felt was so intense she wished for some kind of release.

The mark pulsed, its power grasping at the thin veil around them, pulling at the very fabric of magic that held back the fade. A white light flashed before her eyes and a ghostly image of Divine Justinia was suspended in the air, restrained by red, spiraling energy. A large figure with crimson, glowing eyes loomed over her. Fear contorted her shimmering features as he leaned in close to her.

"What's going on here?" Lynara's voice echoed forcefully through the ruins, but she had not spoken. Her eyes were drawn to a ghostly image of herself, feeling a sense of dread as she watched her spectral self barge into the imaginary room.

"Run while you can! Warn them!" Justinia shrieked at her, fear and loathing warring on her weary face.

The dark figure turned to Lynara's memory, "Kill the elf," he demanded in a low growl. Another flash of searing white light blinded her, a sharp pain rang through her head.

"You were there! Who attacked? And the Divine, is she…? Was this vision true? What are we seeing?" Cassandra flung the questions at her like arrows, her voice urgent and hungry for answers.

"I don't remember!" Lynara snapped, closing her eyes she pinched the bridge of her nose. She tried to focus on the memory, but it was blocked by the same hazy wall as before.

"Echoes of what happened here," Solas said with a hint of wonder. "The fade bleeds into this place."

"Let's just get this over with," Lynara said, the weight of her weariness pulling at her shoulders. The burning and clawing of her mark was beginning to wear her down. She wanted to put an end to it, if she could.

"This rift is not sealed, but it is closed… albeit temporarily. I believe with the mark, the rift can be opened and then sealed properly and safely. However opening the rift will likely attract attention from the other side," the elvhen mage explained, ever knowledgeable about this strange magic, Lynara noted skeptically.

"I understand," Lynara said, pushing past her party, squaring up to the rift. Her marked hand reached out for the floating green crystal, willing the rift to open itself to the fade. As the magic pulsated and tore at the rift, the seal opened, opening the way for several wraiths, shades, and with reluctant realization, a pride demon.

Without missing a beat, Lynara sprung into action, twirling her staff at the wraiths. Concentrated ice magic flung from the tip, dissolving several wraiths into the air. A shade was closing in on Varric, but before Lynara could assist, he was gracefully flipping backwards, putting ample space between himself and the enemy, giving him plenty of time to line up a perfect shot that pierced the demon right in the eye.

The pride demon was focused on Cassandra, it's armored skin not giving way to the slice of her blade. She gritted her teeth and swung at the demon to no avail. The beast was growing tired of her persistence and began to charge up an electrical whip that threatened to tear down Cassandra's defenses. Solas must have noticed this as well as he quickly cast a barrier over the warrior. The whip snapped in the air, electricity humming over Lynara's skin as it expelled its magic. Cassandra staggered at the impact, but appeared uninjured, thanks to Solas' barrier.

The demon let out an otherworldly roar, swinging his powerful arm so wide that it collided with Cassandra and Lynara both, sending them into the ruin's wall. The pain that shot through her spine was so intense that she wasn't sure if she would be able to stand. Peering through blurry vision, she saw the demon focusing his attention on Solas as he casted an ice mine around him to keep the enemy away. The demon paid no mind, pushing forward anyway. The magic cracked loudly through the atmosphere as ice encapsulated the demon for a moment. Lynara used this time to gather herself, pushing wearily off the stone wall, wincing against the cracking pain in her back.

With what strength she could muster, she gave herself to her instincts. Lynara dived deep into her power, letting the magic speak to her as she raised her marked hand into the air. The magic channeled into the rift and exploded, the reverberation forcing the recently defrosted pride demon to its knees.

Rushing forward, stepping through the fade itself, Lynara appeared behind the beast, pulling a spirit blade into her hands and slicing it cleanly through the demon's spine. In it's weakened state, Cassandra took the opportunity to finish it off, gritting through the pain in her spine as she jumped upward to slice the monster's head clean off its shoulders.

With the demons all but dead, the rift twisted and contorted, beckoning Lynara to close the seal once and for all. She obliged, raising her hand as she did before and pulled it closed with a flick of her hand.

The rift flashed a light so bright, it blinded her. A powerful gust of air danced around her, pulling her blonde hair all around her face in a whirlwind of energy. The energy was so pure, so intense, that it drowned her, filling her lungs like water. She could not see, she could not breath. She could only feel the pull of the fade on her hand. And then-Nothing.

* * *

When she awoke in her strange, unfamiliar cottage, her whole world had changed once more. Outside, people looked at her with reverence and curiosity. Murmurs of admiration flitted over her ears-"Herald of Andraste" they whispered.

Their blatant attention reminded her of that fated night she was cursed with darkspawn taint. Her clansmen all stood huddled around themselves, eyeing her with curiosity and disdain. But they had no reverence in their voices like they did today, only cold resentment. This time was different. Much different. The reverence that flooded over her as she headed towards the center of the village was unnerving and unwelcome.

Two men argued in front of the Chantry doors. One was a vaguely familiar man that was distinguished and handsome. Her eyes lingered on him for a little too long as she tried to place him, his familiar wavy blond hair and amber eyes tugging on a far off memory. The other was a Chantry priest with a scowl that was a hundred years old. The priest caught the sight of her and his voice demanded she stop and answer to him, but she pushed forward, wanting to escape the attention everyone seemed adamant in giving her.

The heavy Chantry doors closed quickly behind her. Inside the hallowed hall she was met with the strong scent of incense and beautiful sound of silence. The low lighting gave the inside of the Chantry a sleepy feel, peaceful and calm. The pews beckoned her to rest her weary self on the cushioned redwood, but curiosity pulled her forward.

A door was cracked ever so slightly at the end of the hall, a flicker light bouncing on the stone floor. Lynara stepped closer, pulled by two soft voices that spoke fervently on the other side.

"I cannot believe you did not tell me that our prisoner was the Hero of Ferelden!" Cassandra yelled. Looking around to verify that no one was near, Lynara pressed her ear close to the door.

"All things considered Cassandra, I did not feel that it was an appropriate time," said Leliana, calm as ever.

"You know I've been looking for her. Yet when she turned up, right under my nose, you said _nothing!_"

"When I realized who our prisoner was, you had already decided her guilt. If I told you then, would you have changed your mind, deciding her innocence before she was proven as such?" A pause, then a sigh. "Like I said, it was not an appropriate time to reveal such information as it may have led to a biased judgment."

"I suppose you are right," Cassandra reluctantly agreed. Lynara shook her head, annoyed at her old friend's distrust. _After everything we've been through, you'd let me hang? _She wanted to barge in and yell. Biting her tongue, she settled for a more civil approach.

"Thanks for looking out for me, _friend_," Lynara quipped, revealing herself as she pushed open the wooden door. Leliana snapped her attention to the approaching elf, her resolve was unchanged by the eavesdropping while Cassandra shuffled her feet, clearly uncomfortable by the interruption.

"You're finally awake!" Cassandra blanched, the scowl fluttering from her features.

"Can you truly blame me? You disappeared for ten years without a word and turn up as the lone survivor in a terrible attack against the Conclave. I could not say if you were guilty or innocent. It was not for me to decide," Leliana straightened, crossing her arms over her chest.

"You think I'm capable of committing such atrocities?" the elf bristled.

"By the time the blight was over, you had become quite the powerful mage. And ten years is a long enough time for tragedy to change the heart of any person. Even a Hero's"

"Do you still think I'm guilty?" asked Lynara, her chin pointing upward as she looked at Leliana through squinted eyes.

"Truly?" Leliana breathed, her voice small. "I never did. But I am simply the spymaster here. It was Cassandra's right to decide, not mine."

"But your opinion surely matters."

"Indeed," Cassandra chimed in. "But her opinion is no longer needed. You proved your innocence when you stopped the Breach from spreading."

"So does that mean I'm free to go?" Lynara asked, a flutter of hope tickling her chest.

"I'm afraid it's not that simple," said Cassandra.

"I stopped the Breach from spreading, you say I've proven my innocence," Lynara paused, eyes darting between the two women, the fluttering in her chest turning into a bitter knot. "What more do you want from me?"

"There are those in the Chantry that do not feel the same that we do," Cassandra explained. "They would see you tried for Most Holy's death. I'm afraid if you leave, we will not be able to protect you."

The door to the war room slammed open, the priest from outside the Chantry seethed in the threshold. "Chancellor Roderick," Cassandra sounded shocked, if not annoyed.

"Chain her, I want her prepared for travel to the capital for trial," he demanded to the guards behind him with a false sense of authority. Lynara swore she saw Cassandra roll her eyes.

"Disregard that, and leave us," said the Seeker. With a quick salute to their superior, they turned on their heels and left.

"You walk a dangerous line, Seeker," growled the priest.

"The Breach is stable but it is still a threat. I will not ignore it."

"I stopped demons from pouring out of the sky and making home in that old, wrinkled skin of yours, you ungrateful _shem_," Lynara hissed with a deep rooted anger. "I could've died saving you."

Roderick, completely dumbfounded by her biting words, stared wide eyed and open mouthed. "Yet you live. A convenient result, insofar as you're concerned," he said, finally regaining his composure.

"You must truly be an idiot," she laughed, all humor drained from her features. The priest's eyes narrowed at her. "I have saved this God forsaken world thrice over, and this is how you treat me?"

Roderick looked at her, than at Cassandra, then back at her with a look so baffled, Lynara had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep herself from reveling in his ignorance.

"Oh, so he _can _stop talking," Leliana said with a coy smile. "What? You didn't know Roderick?" she was having too much fun as she peered up at him under her hooded gaze. "This woman you so adamantly blame and disdain is the Hero of Ferelden."

Unable to speak, Roderick's eyes simply widened as they trailed over the elf's face. Lynara wanted to roll her eyes at the foolish, stunned look that betrayed his emotions. _Of course this shem thinks an elf couldn't be a Grey Warden. _

"Someone was behind the explosion at the Conclave. Someone Most Holy did not expect. Perhaps they died with the others – or have allies who yet live," Leliana said.

Snapping out of his stupor, Roderick blanched, "_I _am a suspect?"

"You, and many others."

"But not the prisoner."

"I heard the voices in the temple. The Divine called to her for help," said Cassandra.

"So her survival, that thing on her hand – all a coincidence?" Roderick looked as if he was going to explode. Lynara relished in the thought.

"Providence," said Cassandra, a tone of divine reverence quivering her stern voice. "The Maker sent her to us in our darkest hour."

_No, I will not be an instrument of the Maker. Not again,_ Lynara thought with a grimace. Too many times the people of Ferelden had looked at her, an elf, as a gift of the Maker. She was no such thing. "I am not the chosen one. I do not even believe in your God."

"It matters not. The Breach remains and you are the only one who can close it," said Leliana, practical as ever.

"That is not for you to decide!" Roderick galled, grasping at whatever he could to hold ground in his argument.

Cassandra slammed a heavy book onto the shabby wooden table at the center of the room. Her dark eyebrows pulled together with a look of complete resolve. "You know what this is, Chancellor? A writ from the Divine, granting us authority to act. As of this moment, I declare the Inquisition reborn."

A holy order, declared into existence to banish the evils that the Breach has unleashed upon Thedas. Another war with Lynara front and center. Cassandra's words washed over her with cool indignation.

The rest was a blur. Roderick stood down before Cassandra, his argument growing less infallible as the Seeker waved the inquisitions power in his weary face. Words of saving the world through a new holy order fell on deaf, tired ears. Lynara stared at the book, the eye of the Inquisition staring back at her. It said one thing to her, ringing clear through her hollow heart. _Your journey is far from over._

* * *

**A/N: Hey all! Thanks for tuning in (: Just a little heads up, it's been a while since I've written creatively so I'm still figuring out my voice, as well as my style since my hiatus. Bear with me! My first chapter had a lot of in game dialogue and I've decided that I want to try and steer away from this as much as possible, with the occasional canon dialogue sneaking in when needed. Which is what I tried to implement in this chapter. I would greatly appreciate feedback if any are willing to give it! Thank you for reading!**

**-Mandrs**


	3. My Name is Lynara

Alone at last, Leliana spun on Lynara, anger pulling at her orange eyebrows.

"Where have you been all this time? Alistair and I looked everywhere for you," she sputtered, closing the distance between the old friends like a cat stalking its prey. "For months and months we searched, pooling our resources but you had just… _vanished_."

"I did not wish to be found," Lynara admitted with reluctant, looking away from the rogue's burning eyes.

"But… why?" she asked, her anger dissolving like lingering smoke after a fire.

"I was forced to wear a mask for so long, it felt good to finally take it off and just be… me. To be alone. You of all people should be able to understand that," explained the elf.

"I… do. But why did you feel you needed to wear a mask around us? I thought we were your friends."

"You were-_Are._" she corrected with a sigh. "I felt like I had to be strong for everyone, that I couldn't let despair or fear show or else all hope would be lost. Everyone always looked to me for guidance. It was very… draining," her gaze turned downward towards her wrapped feet. "And frankly, I didn't want to feel that way anymore." She twisted her fingers together in the heavy silence, knowing the unfortunate irony of it all. She was the _Herald of Andraste_ now. Leliana looked at her friend in silent sympathy.

"If I'm being honest, Leliana, I truly thought I was going to die that day. I had made my reservations, made peace with my fate. But when I struck the final blow and I still breathed, my whole world changed. I tried to continue on living as normal, as the Warden Commander, but my second chance at life made me realize I didn't want to die. I didn't want to follow my calling when the time came," the words flowed freely as she lifted the floodgates of her emotions. She had forgotten how easy it was to divulge information to her old friend. It came as no surprise that she had become the Left Hand of the Divine.

"So you sought to seek a cure," Leliana realized, silence filling the air, a heavy understanding hung there. "I see. But why not seek the aid of your friends?"

"After everything I've been through, I felt that I needed to do this on my own," said Lynara, a tight chuckle following. "Besides, you all had your own lives to live. You became left hand of the Divine, Alistair was to be King, Morrigan disappeared, Zevran went home to Antiva, Wynne retired. As for Oghren and Sten… well, who can really blame me for not calling on those two for help."

"So did you find it? A cure?"

"I'm not sure," another heavy sigh escaped pursed lips. Lynara held her hand up to her face, eyes scrutinizing the now quiet mark. "Ever since I got this mark, the taint in my blood has been quiet. Something in this magic is keeping it at bay, whether it has eradicated it or simply numbed it, I cannot say for certain."

"Interesting. Perhaps the magic in your mark has cured your blood? Could that truly be possible, I wonder?"

"There's a massive hole in the sky that is raining demons onto our heads," Lynara said through a tight lipped smile. "At this point, I think anything is possible." Leliana snorted in agreement.

"So will you stay with the inquisition?" asked Leliana, hopefulness tugging at the corner of her eyes.

"I… have not decided," Lynara looked away, not wanting to see the disappointment in her old friend's face.

"I see," said she, all the mirth in her whimsical voice was replaced with a cold and calculated tone. "Lynara, I ask that you go and talk with the people outside. They need you, _we _need you. Perhaps they can help show you the way."

"And if it's not the way your Inquisition wants me to go?" Lynara eyed the spymaster with a weary skepticism.

"Let's just pray it does not come to that," Leliana's lips curled up at the corner, white teeth flashing under the shadow of her hood. The viciousness of a deadly bard ate away the kind and warm demeanor of an old friend. Lynara frowned, bowing her head ever so slightly as she turned on her heel to leave. Lynara knew that Leliana's chaotic nature would not stop her from doing what she felt was right, even if it meant harming an old friend.

* * *

The spymaster's words sat heavy on her heart, pulling her this way and that as she shifted through her options. As she walked the path to her cottage, she felt the ever prying eyes of the people, their whispers reminiscent of a dark tongue snaking its way down her neck. It made her shiver, skin crawling at the dark memory. Her pace quickened, seeking to find solace in her quaint cottage.

"O-oh! Excuse me, I'm so sorry Lady Herald," an elf servant bowed her head before Lynara, refusing to look up as she entered the home.

"Who are you?" Lynara asked a little more harshly than intended. "What are you doing here?"

"Apologies My Lady Herald. Cassandra assigned me to take care for you while you stayed here," she explained, her hands fluttered nervously towards her bedside table. "I am but a humble servant. I was simply bringing you your midday meal."

_A servant? _She would not tolerate such a thing. It was a cruel joke, made to remind her of her inferiority, surely. "No. I cannot allow such a thing. Thank you for the meal, but I will not be needing your service ever again. Do you understand?"

"Y-yes, Lady Herald," the serving woman still hadn't managed to look at Lynara. She bowed ever further and scurried out of the room faster than a mouse. Behind the space where the servant had been, was a steaming bowl of stew that caught the woman's eye. She drew closer, seeing hearty chunks of potatoes and carrots and meat. The scent of savory herbs filled her nose.

Her stomach rumbled, and she quickly realized that she hadn't eaten in what had to been days. She was completely ravenous. To her happy surprise, a crusty bread laid next to the bowl. Without restraint, she dipped it into the soup, absorbing the savory broth. She plopped it into her awaiting mouth with a hum. Swallowing it down, she sighed so deep that all care left her hungry hands. She feasted on the soup with such fervor she didn't even care when the hot broth burned her mouth.

Once content with her full belly, she laid back on her bed, eyes tracing the lines of the wooden ceiling. If she left now, she would be an enemy of the Chantry and the Inquisition. They would look for her until they thought her dead. But she knew how to run, knew how to hide. She had done it for ten years, she knew she could do it for more, if she had to.

On the other hand, she would never be free to live her own life, whatever life that may be. She realized with a grimace that much would be the same, if she stayed. The humans had already began shaping her into something she was not.

"The Herald of Andraste," she tasted the words in her mouth, their bitter flavor made her want to spit. _It's a joke right?_ An elf, the chosen herald of Andraste. It had to be a joke, Lynara thought with a huff, pulling herself up from the comfort of her bed.

At the corner of her cottage, her well traveled staff blade leaned against the wall. With gasp of reprieve, she took the familiar staff into her hands, the electrical power humming under her touch.

Outside, she heard voices tittering, gossiping faintly about the Herald. It made Lynara's ears burn, teeth grinding together at the reverence she detected in their muffled words. She swung her baldrick over her shoulder, placing her staff onto the home of her back. Searching eyes fluttered over the contents of her room, finding a conveniently placed provisions pack that she swiftly rummaged through to find everything she would need to up and leave.

The thought toyed at her mind, curling its seductive finger over her heart. To be on the road again with no responsibilities. To be nobody again.

Pushing down the thought of Leliana's disappointed scowl, she stripped out of her civilians clothes, donned her battlemage armor, slung the pack over her shoulder and made for the door. As she pushed it open, she was met with an all too familiar tall, elven man, fist in the air as if to knock on the door that was now far from his reach.

"What are you doing here?" Lynara asked, her voice rising in pitch as she was surprised to see Solas waiting on the other side of the door.

"I was coming to check on you," he said, pushing past the threshold of her temporary dwelling place, his eyes lingering on her travel gear. A curious eyebrow snaked upward on his otherwise blank face. She stepped back, letting him in from the cold. "You've been unconscious for quite some time. I wasn't sure if you were ever going to wake up, if I'm being honest."

"I've lived through worse," she said with a frown. "Trust me."

"Oh?" he asked.

"Does that surprise you?" she narrowed her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Not at all. Though I must admit that I am curious."

"I could say the same about you," she said, a coy smile playing on her lips. She wondered much about him, like where he came from, and how he knew so much about the fade and all of its mysteries.

"I'm surprised to see a Dalish here away from their clan," he began, leaning nonchalantly against the wall. "Did your clan send you here?" His eyes seemed to be lingering on Mythal's vallaslin that curved underneath her eyes, branches twirling and reaching upwards toward Lynara's forehead.

"How much do you know of the Dalish?" she asked, trying to deflect his question away from her past. It was not a topic she wished to broach.

"I have wondered many roads in my time, and crossed paths with your people on more than one occasion," he explained matter of factly. Lynara's hand curled into fists at her sides when he mentioned _her people._

"They are not _my _people," she scoffed. Solas raised a curious eyebrow at her response, waiting for her to explain herself, but she didn't. The thought of her clan made her heart ache with a bitter pain. They blamed her for so much, disowned her for her childish decisions. The moment she became tainted, she was Dalish no more.

"But you wear the Dalish vallaslin and you are clearly no circle mage," he waited for her to comment, his eyes searched over hers, looking for answers.

"Not everyone's story is so cut and dry that it can be explained by simple appearances."

"Indeed. But _if _I were to guess your story based on simple appearances, it would seem you are an experienced mage, hardened and bitter, and you mean to leave."

"Very astute of you," she quipped, pushing past him to leave the cottage. With quickness she did not expect from him, his arm came out to block her path. The sudden feeling on his warm arm pushing against her stomach as he forced her to stay, sent a jolt of electricity up her spine. Eyes narrowed at him, her hand came up to wrench his arm away from her.

"You would really just up and leave?" he frowned at her, his eyes becoming as cold as the snow outside her warm cottage. "You are the only one who can close these rifts."

"I did not ask for this," she nearly growled. The look of disappointment that flashed across his face angered her. "Don't you dare judge me, you don't even know me."

"I know that you are a coward to run away from you duty," he responded in kind, anger flaring up to match her own.

"Duty? I have done my duty and more. Isn't that enough?" she asked, not expecting him to respond. He did not know, he could not understand. He shook his head, eyes glistening with questions unanswered. "They look at me with a reverence I cannot comprehend. They think I am the Herald of their beloved Andraste. Me, an elf of all people, sent by the Maker. The irony is… too rich." Her eyes broke away from his inquisitive stare. Biting her lip, she pushed past him again, this time her wrapped feet met cold snow-covered cobblestone.

"I can't withstand it a second time," she said so low, her voice was barely a whisper. Her feet carried her quickly down the path to the gates. She could hear Solas call for her, but she ignored it, along with the guilty knot settling in her stomach. Outside the gates of Haven, she saw soldiers skirmishing, the blonde human from earlier barking commands as steel met steel.

The human's eyes looked up for just a moment, catching the gaze of Lynara's. She stiffened, that feeling of recognition running through her that she just couldn't place. A curious look pulled at his handsome features.

"Alright men, let's take a quick five," he commanded, never looking away from the elf's emerald stare. He approached her, a friendly smile pulling at his lips. "Herald, my name is Commander Cullen, a pleasure to meet you."

The name made Lynara's blood turn cold, realization made her falter. "Cullen?"

When he was but a few feet away, his eyes widened with the same realization, his warm smile faded slowly into a frown. "Wait, I know you. You're that Grey Warden."

"That I am," she said, matching his frown. His features wrestled with some emotion that Lynara could not place. A tortured look that was soon replaced by a passive, cold stare. There was no doubt that her visage made him remember something he wanted to forget.

An image of him tortured and defeated behind an arcane prison flashed across her mind. His strained words flitted across her memory, his harsh demand for her to kill all the mages in the tower. She shivered at the memory, pushing it away before it soured her perception of him even further. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry about what happened at the Circle."

"No, please," he said, shaking his head, brow creasing ever so slightly. "Let us not dwell on the past." Lynara bowed her head in silent gratitude. "Now... that the Inquisition is official, Cassandra, Leliana, and I will be meeting to discuss our plan of attack," he said with an air of awkwardness as he tried to change the subject. "I would like for you to join us later. We could use your insight, Herald."

That word hung in the air, taunting her, cajoling her. She forced herself to smile at the man, "Of course."

"Perfect. Now if you'll excuse me," he bowed his head and made his way back to the training grounds where his men waited patiently for his return.

Lynara's shoulders slumped ever so slightly, relieved to be alone once again. She hovered at the crossroads for a moment too long, her mind teetering on a decision when a voice broke through her reverie.

"Hm, a Grey Warden. That explains so much," Solas hummed. Lynara looked over her shoulder to find the elf standing a few feet away, hands placed behind his back as he stared down at her. There was a hint of disapproval in his tone that made Lynara bristle.

"Have something against the Grey Warden's, do you?" she asked, her lips curling into a sneer.

"I just find it fascinating that an order, completely devoted to culling the blight, has failed to do so for hundreds of years," his voice floated through the air with whimsy. _Such arrogance_, she thought, her hands clenched into fists at her side.

"Oh, and you could do better?" she seethed, green pools of poison hissed at his cool blue stare.

He held his hands up in front of him. "I mean no offense. Simply stating my thoughts on the truth."

"The truth?" she scoffed. "And what do you know about the blights and the darkspawn."

"I know that countless innocent people die every time the darkspawn come up from the Deep Roads. I also know that the Warden's have been exiled from several countries for their immoral practices. And, throughout my travels I have never met a Warden that was worthy of merit. The Grey Warden's are willing to do whatever it takes to stop the blight from happening, and yet there's been no solution. Only death," he said, eyes so cold it made Lynara shiver, despite the warmth of her armor.

"You say you mean no offense, but it seems that is all you intend to do," she said through clenched teeth. "You judge all Grey Warden's the same, just as human's do to elves. You are no better than a _shem_."

His eyes defrosted ever so slightly at her words. "Perhaps I judge too quickly," he admitted. Surprised, Lynara's jaw unclenched. "However you running away from the Inquisition does nothing to quell my assumptions."

"Indeed," she said, narrowing her gaze. "I've never had much choice in life," she relented with a sigh, shoulders slumping in defeat. "I did not choose to be a Grey Warden, just like I did not choose to be the _Herald of Andraste." _The words fell off her tongue like a curse.

"Very seldom do we get to choose our own names," Solas hummed. "Sometimes we must simply embrace these names and wear them as a badge of pride, or else there will be only shame and regret." But how many names can one wear before their true self is lost, Lynara wondered. Grey Warden, Hero of Ferelden, Warden Commander, Herald of Andraste. All she simply wanted to be called was _Lynara_.

"I will stay here," she declared. "But know that my name is Lynara. Nothing more."

"Very well, Lynara," Solas bowed his head, a pleased smile pulling at the corner of his lips. Returning the gesture, she returned to Haven to see what the Inquisition would have in store for her.

* * *

A/N: Another chapter in the books! Thanks for reading, I hope you're enjoying so far. I know I'm having a good time writing this. Feel free to leave feedback!


	4. A Lonely Road

The Inquisition required the Herald to travel to the Hinterlands with a small party consisting of Cassandra, Varric, and Solas. Refugees swarmed the area and the Templars and Mages fought with no regard of the innocent, letting chaos brew in Southern Ferelden. The bulk of the Inquisition's scouts set up a camp overlooking the Crossroads, where refugees poured in, seeking the comfort of Mother Giselle's flock.

Night had fallen on the small settlement, cold winds rising from the south, chilling the air around them. "Let us camp for the night," Lynara declared, placing her pack down by the fire. "We can seek out this Mother Giselle in the morning, see what the Inquisition can do for these people."

"Thank you, Lynara," Cassandra's voice sounded a touch relieved. "With the Chantry in chaos, I'm afraid there is not much help coming for these refugees. The Inquisition is all they have. I'm glad we're taking the time to help."

"Indeed," chimed in Solas. "Maybe we will be able to close some of the rifts that have appeared while we do so."

"Ah, look at us. A merry misfit band of helping hands. Makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Or maybe that's just the fire," Varric said with a smile in his voice.

"Could be the wine," Lynara said with a smirk, her hand reaching for her half empty wine skin. She brought the leather skin to her lips, the sweet wine dancing with acidity over her tongue.

"That too," Varric said with a laugh, hand reaching for the wine skin that she readily passed to him.

"Drinking already?" Cassandra said, an innocence in her voice making her sound almost childish.

"Come now Seeker, I ran out of water hours ago," Varric quipped. Lynara laughed, relishing in her somber buzz. "So tell me Hero, how come they haven't written a book about you yet," Varric said with a huff as she plopped down next to her, the fire dancing on his face.

"Hero?" Lynara eyed him hesitantly. "Please don't tell me that is your chosen nickname for me."

"Oh come on, don't sweat it. Everyone that has the pleasure of knowing me is given a nickname of my choosing. I picked Hero for you because well… shit," he breathed. "You're kind of a bad ass."

Solas' curious expression on the other side of the fire caught Lynara's attention., shadows and flames dancing over his glinting blue eyes. "You say that, but most people don't know who I am," she said, breaking her gaze with the elf and turning her attention to the dwarf next to her. He passed her the wine skin and she happily took a swig of it.

"And what a damn shame that is!" the dwarf bellowed, passion coursing through his voice. "I could write your story, Hero. Just imagine: Adventure, romance, death, intrigue, and epic battles. With you at the forefront of it all. Hundreds of copies would sell within weeks, I tell you."

Lynara felt the blood rise to her cheeks, the warmth making her face flush red. She did not see her story with such grandeur and fever that Varric did. She saw fear, heartbreak, murder and pain.

"I would read that," Cassandra chimed in with a strange excitement in her voice, pulling Lynara from her darkening thoughts.

"See? Even our tall, grumpy Seeker with a love for stabbing things would read your story," Varric laughed.

"Excuse me?" Cassandra huffed, her dark eyebrows scowling at the smug dwarf. With a mischievous laugh, he took another long swig of wine, licking his lips with approval. He happily ignored the Seeker's angry gaze.

"No, absolutely not," Lynara finally said with a tone of finality.

"Aww, come on. You're no fun," the dwarf sighed.

"Indeed, it would make an interesting tale," Solas chimed in. "When I dreamt at Ostagar, I witnessed the battle between Ferelden and the Darkspawn horde. I saw you and Alistair light the signal tower as the darkspawn swarmed King Cailan's forces. I saw Loghain make his retreat as he left hundreds behind to die. So full of betrayal and intrigue. How _did _you survive?"

"You saw me?" Lynara asked, ignoring his question. Her eyebrows knitting together as she tried to fathom such a thought. "And yet you did not recognize me when we first met?"

"I must admit I did not recognize you at first. But once I learned your true nature, I easily made the connection," Solas chuckled. She flushed a little at this, her fingers drawing up to the deep scar framing her left eye and cheekbone. So much had changed in the last ten years, sometimes she didn't even recognize herself when she looked upon her own reflection.

"Then you should have seen how I survived," Lyanra sighed. Solas meagerly shook his head. "Asha'bellanar supposedly transformed into a bird and snatched Alistair and myself in her talons, and led us to safety far from the darkspawn horde."

"You have doubts?" he asked with a curious tilt of his head.

"Perhaps I did, once upon a time. But I have seen things now that my younger self could not possibly fathom. So now I know that anything is possible."

"Very true!" Varric laughed, the wine slurring his words. "Let's face it, I'm sure ten years ago you would've never thought yourself able to slice that Archdemon's head clean off with a single blow."

Lynara caught a glimpse of Solas' expression across the camp. A look of surprise, and something else that she could not place. "What? Can't imagine a 120 pound elf mage slicing the head off a dragon?" she asked, a coy smile playing at her lips.

"It must have been majestic," Cassandra breathed.

"I do find it rather hard to imagine," Solas hummed. "But as you rightfully stated, anything is possible."

"Is it true?" the Seeker asked, eyes dancing with fire.

"It's not as graceful as Varric tells it, but yes. In a sense I suppose it is," she sighed. Her mind brought back images of the past, images dancing in the fire before her.

_Flames flickered as high as a castle wall, encircling her, imprisoning her. Ahead of her, Alistair sliced a ragged cut under the dragon's long neck, blood sputtering from the sliced carotid of the archdemon, the stench of darkspawn taint muddling her senses. Eyes wide with horror, heart sinking into her stomach, she watched as he went in for the killing blow. Lynara knew all too well the consequences of such an action. In a panic, she called upon her magic, a forceful blast pushing Alistair away from dragon. With what remaining strength she could muster, she wailed at the beast, hacking and slashing at its neck with her spirit blade as hot blood sprayed her face. She did not relent until the dragons body nearly collapsed on top of her. Her chest heaved as she tried to taste the air before taking her final breath._

The memory was so vivid, so real that she stopped breathing for several seconds. With a shaky hand she reached for the wine skin to find that Varric had finished it off.

"Excuse me a moment," she said, swiftly rising to her feet. Varric and Cassandra exchanged words that Lynara did not hear. Whether it was the fire, the wine, or the memories of the past, her skin had become hot, so hot that it felt like it was suffocating her.

To her relief, she found a river away from the camp, the trickling of cool water beckoning her forward. Collapsing to her knees in front of it, she threw her gloves off to the side, letting the cool water run over her sweaty palms. A sigh of relief left her lips as the water splashed across her hot face.

Her peaceful silence was interrupted by muffled, approaching footsteps. With a turn of her head, she saw Solas walking toward her, his brow pulled down in concern. "Are you okay, _da'len_?" he said, kneeling next to her.

"I am fine, _hahren_," she said the word with a bitter twist of her mouth. "I am not a child to fawn over."

"Indeed. You have clearly been through much. I did not mean to condescend. Forgive me," he said, eyes softening as they fell upon hers.

A sigh softened her scowl, "Why are you here?"

"I simply wanted to make sure you were okay. The Anchor on your hand still threatens your well being and when you went pallid and rushed off, I became concerned," he explained, his expression gone passive.

"No," she said her lips pursing at him. "I mean, why are you _here_, with the Inquisition?"

His eyes darted away for just a moment and then returned a steely blue. "The Breach poses a threat to you, me, and the entirety of Thedas. I would see that I do whatever I can to help see that it is sealed."

"That's commendable, if true," said she, her eyes searching his for any hint of emotion, anything to give away his motivations.

"You have doubts?" he asked.

"You are an apostate, surrounded by Chantry forces. Even with Cassandra's accommodations, being here is dangerous. And if there's anything I know about being an apostate, staying somewhere dangerous is not recommended."

Solas hummed in thought, his eyes drifting off past Lynara. "Why were you at the Conclave, Lynara?" The way her named danced off his tongue with his deep, silky voice made her shiver, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on edge. "Why would the Grey Wardens have interest in such an affair?"

"I have not considered myself a Grey Warden for seven years," she explained, hands reaching for her gloves. She twisted them in her hands, eyes focusing on the dark leather.

"Then why would an apostate such as yourself, come to the Conclave where you would be surrounded by Chantry forces. Surely someone as wise as yourself would avoid willingly walking into such danger," Solas said. She could hear the smirk in his voice.

"Fine, point taken," she grimaced at the irony. "I apologize for expressing doubt. However, I know nothing about you and yet here we are travelling, sharing a camp together. You can understand my distrust, can you not?"

"Indeed," he chuckled lightly, sitting back on his heels. "We could remedy that. A question answered for a question asked. You go first. You answer my question and you can ask me one in return."

"Very well," she sighed, green eyes peeking up from long lashes. "Several months before the Conclave was to take place. I received an invitation from the Warden Commander of Orlais. As I said, I haven't considered myself a Warden for years, but I was intrigued nonetheless." Lynara saw a curious glint in his eyes, she continued before he could ask again. "I don't know why the Wardens were interested in the Conclave. Her letter did not express their motivations. I simply accepted for my own personal reasons, not because of the Wardens."

"And what reasons were those?" he asked.

"Another question?" she smirked, eyes dancing with mischief. "I believe that means you'll owe me two questions."

"No, I believe you are being intentionally vague," he said with a pointed stare. Her lips curled into a full blown smile and she cocked her head at him, waiting for him to give in. She noticed the corner of his mouth twitched ever so slightly in response. "Fine then, you can ask me two questions," he caved.

Her smile started to fade as she looked away, a sigh befalling her lips. "I have spent many years traveling Thedas, looking for answers, solutions for curing the darkspawn taint that curses my blood. I thought maybe, just maybe, that someone at the Conclave might have an answer."

"You found your answer," he said. It was not a question, she noticed. She looked at him from the corner of her eye. "It is not the answer you expected."

"One problem just replaced with another. This mark," she said, holding up her ungloved hand, "did something. When I awoke after the explosion, I couldn't feel the taint in my blood anymore."

Solas looked straight ahead, his visage clear of emotion. His blue eyes steady as he pondered her words. Silence enveloped them and she wondered if he would ever speak on what she said. Her fingers started to twist and pull at the leather gloves in her hand.

"The magic of the Anchor has changed you," he stated, finally cutting through the silence.

"I don't think so," she hummed in thought. She felt no different since the explosion other than the lack of the tingling on her skin and the now burning mark on her hand. "I am still me. I think the same, feel the same, look the same. The only thing that is different is my blood and this blasted mark on my hand."

His hand suddenly reached for her marked one, his long fingers sliding over the faint glow on her palm. The warmth of his touch against her cold skin made her want to jerk her hand away from him, but she steadied herself, letting his fingers glide gently across her palm.

"Perhaps the magic has healed you. Or perhaps the Anchors power in your blood simply masks the effects of the darkspawn taint. I cannot say for certain," he said with a sigh. He gently let go of her hand, letting it fall back into her lap.

Lynara hummed in response, marveling in silence at the tingling sensation his warm touch left on her hand. Quiet fell over them once more, but this time it felt more comfortable.

"Now then, I believe I owe you two questions," he said, a smile creeping onto his previously expressionless face.

"True," Lynara perked up, her eyes meeting his, curiosity thrumming in her heart. "Where are you from?" she blurted.

"I'm from a village far north," he said. Her eyebrows pulled together as she tried to read his expression.

"That's all you're going to give me? How about a name? Did you live among elves or humans?" she asked, growing annoyed with his ambiguity.

"Does this mean I get to ask more questions as well?" he smirked.

"What? No! Now you're being intentionally vague but even more so that I was," she growled.

"So you admit to being intentionally vague," he laughed and shook his head. "Even if I told you the name of this village you would have never heard of it," he explained, looking away.

"Try me," she squared her shoulders as she searched his face. "I've traveled north, stayed in Antiva and Tevinter for a spell. Perhaps I've heard of it."

"Doubtful. I lived with a small settlement of elves, but we were not Dalish. When I was old enough to leave, I did," he said. Lynara thought on this, and she supposed it answered her curiosity about him. Why he seemed close to elven culture but didn't hold to the Dalish ways.

"Why did you leave?" she wondered aloud, cursing at herself inwardly for wasting her question as she did.

"When I started to show talent for the arcane I knew I could not stay. And I wanted to study the fade. I traveled from ruin to ruin, dreaming in these places, learning the memories locked inside the fade. That is how I saw you at Ostagar," he explained, his eyes returning to hers.

"I have to admit, in all my study of magic, I've never read much about Dreamers as the Chantry frowns on such magic. Would you be willing to tell me more about it?" she asked, eyes glinting with curiosity.

"Of course, _da'len_," he said the word again, but this time it didn't bristle Lynara's ears as much. Instead, her mouth pressed into a firm line and he smirked at her reaction. "But not tonight. We shall speak on this another time."

The air had become colder and the night darker. She slid her gloves on her hands and pushed off the ground, nodding to Solas as she stood. "Very well. I will hold you to it," she said, a soft smile pulling at her lips.

When she returned to camp with Solas at her side, Cassandra and Varric had already retired to their tents, a faint snoring was muffled by the canvas. She smirked as she wondered if it was the dwarf or human that snored so vibrantly.

Lynara reached her pack by the fire and pulled her bedroll out, laying it out a few feet from the flames. She looked up to see Solas hesitating in front of his tent, a hand holding the flap as he stared at her with a strange shimmer in his eye. "You won't use your tent?" he asked, cocking his head to the side.

"The sky is clear tonight and the air is not too cold. I prefer to sleep under the stars, if the weather allows it," she explained with a small smile. "It is familiar to me."

"Ah," he breathed, matching her smile. "I understand. Good night, Lynara."

"Good night, Solas," she said as he bowed his head into his tent for the night.

With a deep sigh, Lynara laid down on her back, clasping her fingers together over her stomach. Tired eyes traced the stars in the sky. The familiar cracking of the fire, the faint snores from across the camp, the cool air dancing on her cheeks. It all brought back memories of a different time when she wasn't so alone. _To have travelling companions again_, she thought was a smile. She didn't think she would relish in it so much, but it made her heart squeeze knowing that she had companions to talk to, to share stories with. It made her realize what a lonely road she had been travelling.

_Lonely it shall be no more_, she decided as she closed her eyes and drifted into a comfortable sleep.

* * *

**AN: Thank you all for the reviews/follows/favorites! Seeing ya'll react to my story has been very inspiring and I look forward to working on this with you in days to come. I would like to warn everyone now that I may get some lore things incorrect. I'm trying my best to read everything there is to read, but a girl only has so much time on her hands. So apologies if I get something wrong, and thank you in advance for correcting me (:**

**Side note: does anyone else listen to Solas' theme from Trespasser on repeat? That shit is epic and beautiful, just saying lol.**


	5. Bloodied Hands, Bloodied Heart

_The wind coming off the Frostbacks was cold and angry, chilling Lynara's skin even as she sat in front of the crackling fire, a dark green cloak lined with fur wrapped tightly around her shoulders. The camp was quiet except for the muffled snores of her companions only a few feet away and the whooshing of the fire in the wind._

_A sigh escaped her chapped lips as she stared up at the endless sky, stars peeking out from behind the clouds, their hazy light glistening in her dilated eyes. Around her, the world seemed so at peace, calm, and contented. But she knew that it was a lie, she knew that the world outside toiled with strife and burned with misery. The darkspawn marched on these human lands while politicians gambled with lives, selfishly grasping at power._

_She thought it was a shemlen thing, to kill and conquer for power. But even in Orzammar, where she thought it would be different the dwarves played with the lives of the less fortunate. The image of Hespith eating away at the flesh of her dwarven comrade all because Branka went power crazy, made her stomach churn, bile rising to her throat. She quickly swallowed it down, willing the image from her mind. But she couldn't. It haunted her, making it difficult to sleep at night. To see what she could eventually become terrified her more than she was willing to let on. _

_Lynara shivered, pulling the cloak over her head as she placed her chin on her folded knees. The wind around her stilled and the world seemed to blanket her in a quiet that was eerily familiar. The back of her head tingled with a burn that sent her viens a flame. Jumping to her feet, she reached for her staff, eyes darting around frantically for the approaching enemy._

_Alistair seemed to sense something too as he quickly jolted from his slumber, eyes wide as he scurried to his feet, grogginess making him stumble uneasily as he stood. Their eyes met and she nodded at him, a grimace tightening her lips. He responded by grabbing his shield and sword. "Everyone get up, the darkspawn are approaching," Lynara hissed. _

_Before anyone could react, a shriek echoed through the silence as a dark and shrouded figure tackled Lynara to the ground. With a thud, her head hit the hard earth, her staff bounding from her hand. In a daze she could vaguely see the shriek bringing a claw down onto her face, five long fingers threatening to tear her skin off. She called on the fade, power humming through her hands as she willed whatever magic she could muster to push the creature off of her. The magic resonated out of her hands, a gust of force knocked the darkspawn from her body, but not quickly enough, as its claw caught the side of her face, just missing her eye. As it propelled backward, the claw slid down her cheek, slicing away a long, staggered chunk of her skin. She cried out in pain as she felt the deep burning of the creatures tainted claw beckon her blood to the surface of her skin._

_Ignoring the pain that scorched the entire left side of her head, she grabbed her staff and pulled herself to her feet. Her eyes searched frantically around the camp, seeing six shrieks engaging in melee with the rest of her party. Knowing full well they'd be able to handle themselves, she found her own target, gritting her teeth as she called on the fade once more for its power. Electricity charged the air, crackling around her. Tendrils of lightning shot forward as she flung the tip of her staff at the darkspawn, her staff concentrated the energy into a ball of pure electrical power. It collided with the shriek with a shock that charged the air around her. The creature shrieked out in pain as the magic electrocuted its flesh. Not taking any chances, Lynara flung two more balls of electricity at the creature, willing it to die with her cold, hard eyes. _

_As the creature fell to the ground, she spotted a small, dark figure behind it. It looked like a person, rubbing their arms, scratching their neck, head twitching this way and that. It looked disturbed and disfigured but oddly familiar. Lynara's heart fluttered unevenly as her eyes met his, a clouded and pained expression on his tainted face. Without thinking, she stepped towards him, but he recoiled at her approach. "You.. lethallan," he said, voice strained and pained. He averted his gaze and even in the dark night she could see what he was, who he was._

"_Tamlen… is that you?" she breathed, her eyes noting his newly bald head, blistered and dark skin on his face. The realization that her once dead lover was alive all this time, being tortured by the darkspawn taint made her heart drop to her stomach. Hot tears blurred her already bloodied vision. _I did this to him_, the thought echoed through her soul with such resentment and regret it made her want to collapse to her knees and sob into his arms. Instead she found herself inching closer to him, her hand extended as if she wanted to touch him once more._

"_Don't… come near me. Stay away!" he bellowed, running away towards the tree line of the forest. Instinctively she followed after him, her heart being pulled forward, tightening her throat. She was unable to say a word._

"_Don't look at me, I'm sick," he said as his head craned away from her tearful gaze. Ragged breaths parted her quivering lower lip. She stared longingly at him for a minute as he shuffled under her stare, pain wracking his cloudy yellow eyes._

"_Tamlen I'm so sorry. Please, let me help you," she said through her breaths. "I can help you." She said the words even though she knew they were lies. The knowledge of how to prepare the Joining died with the wardens at Ostagar. There was no helping him now, she knew this._

"_No help! No... help for me," he struggled to say. "The song… in my head… it calls to me. He sings to me! I can't stop it," he said, eyes squeezed shut as if he was willing the voices to disappear. Lynara knew too well the pain that he was suffering. But it had been months since he became tainted and he was too far gone. The thought made her heart break all over again. _

_She reached out for him again, but this time he didn't pull away. Her fingers brushed the exposed, darkened skin on his upper arm. It burned under her cold fingers. Tamlen flinched away but he did not stop her as she pulled him into an embrace. Her face found the familiar crook of his neck and she rested her chin there, letting the tears fall free down her bloodied face. The stench of the darkspawn taint burned her nose, burned her skin as she stood there in his arms, but she did not care. She never thought she'd be able to touch him again._

"_Don't… want to hurt you lathallan. Please… stop me," his voice was quiet, broken against her ear. It shattered her heart as she realized what he was asking. She squeezed her eyes shut as she steadied the sobs that threatened to wrack her chest._

"_I did this," she breathed through gritted teeth. She cursed at herself for being such a foolish child, for convincing him to follow her into the ruin._

"_No…I'm sorry," she could feel him shake his head against her. "I've always loved you." His words washed over her like cold water, shattering her restrain, unleashing the sobs that she was holding in._

"_Ir abelas, ma vhenan," she whispered, her left hand cradling the back of his head as her right head reached for the dagger sheathed at her side. Taking a shaky breath, she brought the dagger to his midsection, pointing the blade right underneath his rib cage. Exhaling with a cry, she plummeted the dagger upward towards his heart, feeling his body weakened against the blade. "Ar lasa mala revas," she whispered against his ear. _

_Hot blood spilled from his wound onto her bare hand, where she held tight onto the blade's shaft as if her life depended on it. Lowering his body onto the ground, she finally let go of the blade and cradled him in her arms, rocking him as she watched the life fade from his already hazy eyes. A final breath escaped his blistered lips as his life force dripped into her lap. His eyes were empty as they stared up at her. _

_The sight of his cold dead eyes staring past her made the sobs fall freely from her chest. She bit her tongue, trying to stifle the crying that threatened to consume her but the taste of blood soon flooded her mouth. Forcing herself to look away from her dead lover, she spotted a pair of icy blue eyes hiding in the darkness of the trees. She sniffed as she squinted at it, trying to decipher the shadowed form in front of her. The creature threw its head back, bellowing forth a painfully sad howl that harmonized with her own._

The mournful howl drew her from her sleep and she bolted upright as she gasped for air. Stale tears lingered on her cheeks, her hand coming up to wipe the residual wetness away. Confusion wracked her mind as she took in her surroundings. The camp, the wilderness, the gentle snores of her companions were all too familiar as it mirrored her earlier dreamscape. Was she awake or was she still dreaming? She wasn't sure.

Her breaths were shallow, throat tight as the lingering emotions of her dream came crashing down. Fighting past the disoriented panic that she felt, she rose from her bedroll and surveyed the camp trying to find something, anything that would ground her.

On the horizon, the sun was rising, its somber yellow light stretching upward into the residual dark blue hue of night. Birds perched in nearby trees, tweeting their sweet song as they welcomed the rising sun. Lynara's eyes landed on a group of Inquisition scouts just down the hill, leaning over a table as they chatted idly about things that could only be guessed at. Their familiar green uniforms stilled Lynara's ragged heart long enough for her to catch her breath. She was awake, she had to be.

One of the scouts looked up from the paper in her hand, meeting gaze with Lynara. "Good morning, Herald," she said with a gruff voice, pushing off the table with ease. She walked up the hill, meeting the elf halfway and handed the paper to her. With a shaky hand, she snatched the paper trying to steady the sheet by holding on to it with both hands. "A requisition for you. Since you'll be traversing the Hinterlands, maybe you can keep your eye out for these items."

She focused on the words, iron, Ferelden locks, lambswool, silk, repeating them in her mind over and over again, trying to will the look of Tamlen's dead eyes from her memory. Mouth dry, she licked her lips before returning her gaze back to the scout. "Of course. I will let you know if I come across anything," she said, surprised by how coarse her voice sounded in her own ears.

The scout nodded and turned away, returning to her comrades at the table. Lynara turned her gaze back to the dwindling fire at the center of her camp and sighed, her chest shaking with her ragged exhale as if she had been sobbing, but she hadn't been. At least, not that she knew of.

_Eleven years,_ she thought. _Eleven years and I still can't get that blasted night out of my mind. _The dead eyes of a lover long lost still haunted her sleep, forcing her to relive something she wished she could simply bury beneath all the other bodies she had burned. But she couldn't. Her dreams have always been vivid, realistic in their images. Even before she was a warden, she found her dreams haunted her with their brilliant realism frequently enough. But after taking in the darkspawn taint, she practically couldn't go a single night without experiencing a dream that emotionally drained her. She hated it, wishing to be rid of the dreams that plagued her sleep. It was part of the reason she was so adamant about getting rid of the darkspawn taint that muddied her blood. Grimacing, she realized that even with the whispers gone, her vivid dreaming did not relent.

_Maybe with some control,_ she wondered, thinking of Solas who was sleeping soundly in his tent. His knowledge of the fade and dreaming might be able to help her control the dreams she faced. It was something to try at least.

Wanting to get a move on before anymore depressing thoughts fluttered into her mind, she walked over to the tents on the other side of the fire. "Rise and shine," she called through the canvas, a bored tone in her voice. "Early bird gets the worm and all that bullshit."

A gravely groan resonated from one of the tents, silencing the snoring from earlier. Varric peaked his head out from the canvas, squinting in the morning light. "Andraste's ass, what time is it?" he frowned, blinking away the sleepiness that lingered in his eyes.

"Early enough," she said with a shrug while rolling up her bedroll. "Hmm, I really thought Cassandra was the one snoring like a grizzly bear. Pity."

Varric laughed. "Well that remains to be seen."

"Excuse me?" Cassandra's voice fluttered from her tent as she pushed back the canvas. Her black hair was disheveled and the tight braid from before was loose. Lynara stifled a smirk as she took in her drowsy demeanor. Morning was an interesting time in a camp. Companions tired and comfortable with the remnants of sleep still clinging on. Its when everyone seemed the most normal and the most vulnerable, Lynara had noted after her many years of sharing a camp with others.

"The sun's not even fully risen yet and the Seeker's already got her underwear in a twist," Varric said, rolling his eyes while retreating back into his tent. Cassandra scoffed as she always seemed to do while in the presence of the dwarf and pulled her onyx breastplate on over her tunic.

Solas finally emerged from his tent, already wearing his traveling robes. He hoisted his backpack onto his shoulders and brought his staff into his hand as he leaned against in, looking expectantly at his party leader.

Their eyes met and Lynara noticed the dark circles under his eyes. Had he experienced trouble sleeping as well, she wondered. If so, she felt sorry for him because she knew it would be a long day of travelling ahead of them. She was used to such a life, her companions she wasn't so sure.

"As soon as you are all dressed and packed, we break camp and head to the Crossroads," she said, pulling the map from her pack and laying it on her lap as she peered over the detailed drawings. She found the Crossroads near the center of the map. She took her pointer finger and trailed a line due west of the crossroads, where she assumed Master Dennet's stable would be. This would be their first stop, she decided. Once they secured some horses, traversing the countryside would be much easier on all of them.

"Already?" Varric grumbled, coming out of his tent once more, this time fully clothed in his leather duster and breeches. "You won't even let a man enjoy his breakfast?"

She peered up from the map to meet his gaze, shaking her head. "There's too much to be done to afford for such idle luxuries. I've packed enough travel rations to get us through this excursion."

"Man, for someone who didn't want anything to do with the Inquisition, you're really cracking the whip on this one," he laughed, but there was very little humor in his voice. She narrowed her gaze at him, rolling up the map into her tightened fist. His obvious reference to her being a slave driver made her ears twitch with a rage she tried to suppress with all her will.

Her forced smile didn't meet her eyes as she spoke, "I tried to deny my leadership many years ago. It did nothing good for me or the people around me. I've decided I will not take that path again." It was so long ago and still so fresh in her mind. The cruelty that she treated her companions with at the beginning of the blight was unfair. So many lost in Lothering because she refused to help the _shemlen_. Her forced smile twisted into a grimace as she tried to push the thoughts from her mind. _Never again._

"And we thank you for that," Cassandra said while she finished donning her armor. She slid her bedroll into the straps of her travelling pack. "Right Varric?" she stared at him pointedly, her amber eyes burning with conviction.

"Of course, of course," he said, hands held up in defense in front of him. "But don't expect me to play nice on an empty stomach."

With a long drawn out sigh, Lynara reach into her pack for one of her travel rations, wrapped in recycled cheesecloth and twine. She tossed it to the dwarf who caught it with ease. There was a frown on his face as he untied the cloth to find a bar with all kinds of different earthy foods bound together by something sticky. He sniffed it before taking a bite. As he chewed his frown suddenly melted into a faint smile as the sweet, nutty flavors danced across his tongue.

"Damn, that's pretty good!" he said, all snarkiness gone from his voice. "Best ration I've ever had. Where'd you get these?"

"I made them," she said nonchalantly. Years of travel forced her to try new things that would sustain her on the road. She tired of eating the same thing every day, so she sought to learn the art of cooking, learning new techniques as she visited cultural hotspots like Antiva City, Val Royeaux, and even Minrathous. "Simple, really. Just some oats, nuts, seeds, honey, peanut butter and a little bit of chocolate," she explained while noticing the curious looks her companions gave her. Trying to bite back her smile, she reached for two more rations and passed them to Cassandra and Solas.

"I trust you all can eat and walk at the same time?" she asked while raising an eyebrow. None of them responded as they took bite after bite of the ration. With a sigh, she hoisted her pack onto her shoulder, picked up her staff and started down the hill. "Let us go."

* * *

Mother Giselle had an unimpressive encampment within the Crossroads. Makeshift shelters and cots gave little protection from the elements of Southern Ferelden. People were dying from the cold, disease, and war. The roads were no longer safe, making the transportation of refugees difficult. Once more, people were dying in Southern Ferelden while fleeing from danger.

Lynara remembered with a pang of guilt the indifference she once felt for the humans suffering around her-All the dead bodies left forgotten, defiled by the darkspawn's blight. But now, as she looked on the groaning, coughing, bleeding people strewn about the open camp, she felt saddened and distraught, angry even. _When will the suffering end,_ she wondered with a twist of her lips.

Bidding Mother Giselle farewell, the party began to travel due west towards Dennet's farm. Along the way, she noted the need for food, blankets, and medicinal herbs. The people were so needy and there was no one there to help expect the Inquisition. Not even Arl Teagan's men were there, Lynara noticed with a frown. She thought him a better man than that.

As they continued down the road, the silence between the party continued to stretch thin and she realized for the first time how quiet Solas had been all morning. In fact, she wasn't sure if she heard him speak at all. Curious. He normally always had something to say or interject into a conversation.

She looked over at him, seeing those same dark circles under his eyes. "Are you okay Solas? You've been rather quiet all morning," she said, concern pulling at her brow.

He looked over at her with a hum. "Yes, just… thinking," he said with a tilt of his head. Varric's laugh cut through the air like a knife.

"You elfs are always so damn broody. Back in Kirkwall, I knew the broodiest elf there ever was. Your face right now reminds me a lot of his," he said, still chuckling to himself at the thought.

"I'm not brooding," Solas said looking away towards the path ahead of them.

"He would say the same thing! Now you _sound _like him too," Varric smirked and Solas rolled his eyes.

The sound of fighting could be heard up ahead, driving Lynara to reach for the staff on her back. "Hear that?" she asked, eyes scanning the path. Several paces up the trail was a scene of humans fighting humans, rogue mages versus rogue templars. Magic flared into the air, humming and crackling as the fade was pulled on, and then all of its powerful tingling sensation would disappear, null and void. It stirred a sense of unease within Lynara as she felt her own connection to the fade become muffled. But it could only last so long and soon the thrumming of power returned to the air. She sighed, long and drawn out, "I hate fighting templars."

"Must we fight them? We could just let them kill each other while we sneak past," Varric said as he secured Bianca into his hands anyway.

"Their fighting on the main thoroughfare causes innocents to suffer. We must put a stop to their selfishness," the Seeker said while brandishing her sword and shield.

"I agree," Solas said with a curt nod. "We cannot allow this chaos to go unchecked."

Lynara hesitated a moment, her eyes trailing over the human faces of her newly declared enemies. One of the mages, too focused on the spell he was casting, neglected to see the templar closing in on his left side. The sword came down fast on the mages torso, unleashing a torrent of blood as the blade sliced the mage open. Another mage bellowed in rage at the sight of his comrade falling in combat, a huge blast of fire magic burst from his core towards the templars. One caught on fire and screamed an ear curdling scream as the hot fire scorched his skin, his heavy armor doing little against the magical flames.

It was three versus three now and Lynara wondered if perhaps she should let them kill each other after all. It would ease her conscious while also providing the easier path. However, she noticed the adrenaline in her veins beckoned her to fight. The thrill of battle called to her and she wanted to give in even though she knew it would lead to the deaths of more humans. Another mage fell to the blades of a fast, rogue-like templar. She had never seen a templar fight like he did and his quickness would prove to be difficult to counter as a mage, she noted.

"Bring down the mages first, then focus on the dual-wielding templar," she commanded while pushing forward, staff at the ready.

As they joined the fray, Cassandra lead the charge, bringing her sword down on an unsuspecting mage from behind while the enemies were still unaware of their presence. One of Varric's bolts aimed for the head of the last mage standing, but he saw the attack coming and let out a force of magic around him that knocked the arrow from the air as well as forcing Cassandra to her knees. Quick to react, Solas casted a barrier on the warrior while Lynara rushed into the battle, standing in front of the knocked down Cassandra and placing three fire mines in front of her. In the near distance she saw Varric do a flip around the mage, landing behind him and ending him quickly, leaving the three templars who focused their sight on Cassandra and Lynara. One of them foolishly stepped too close, activating the fire mine. The explosion sent him flying while catching flame. Lynara noticed with a grimace that his leg had been blasted off on impact. The dual wielding templar came rushing and Lynara quickly shifted through the fade away from the front lines where she allowed herself plenty of room to fling concentrated ice shards from the tip of her staff.

Cassandra, now on her feet blocked the onslaught of attacks that the warrior templar and the rogue rained down on her. The rogue disappeared and Lynara searched frantically for the attacker with Solas at her side. He had laid down a set of ice mines to protect them from their would be attackers. Her ear twitched at the snap of a branch behind her and she swirled around to find the rogue attempting to bring his blades down on her backside. She brought her staff up quickly to block the attack as she called on her magic to push him away. As the fade morphed and flowed to her will, her hands thrumming with its power, the templar smiled smugly. Soon, the humming of the fade was nowhere to be found, the tingling in her hands gone, albeit temporarily.

Magic absent due to the templar's power, the rogue pushed harder, swinging blade after blade to throw off Lynara's balance. Suddenly Solas was at the rogues back bringing his staff around him and pulling it tight against his throat. Struggling to breath and break free, the rogue lost his blades to the ground, hands coming up to pull the staff away from his neck. Lynara gripped her staff, knuckles turning white as she brought the blade end of the staff to the rogues stomach, running the sharp steel deep into his abdomen, allowing his entrails to spill out. Solas let go of the body, letting it drop to the earth with a thud. Their eyes locked for a moment, cold icy stare meeting hard cut emeralds.

"Ma serannas," she said before turning away to see that Cassandra and Varric had finished off the warrior templar.

"The road should be safer now," Cassandra said through ragged breaths, a smile forming on her lips. Lynara hummed in agreement as she knelt down next to the dead to see if there was any loot she could salvage. "What are you doing?" Cassandra's smile faded as she watched the elf rummage through the corpses.

"Taking their stuff, they don't need it anymore," she said with a sigh. This conversation was one she had before with Leliana. Pious women with their pious thoughts.

"But it's disrespectful and immoral to steal from the dead," she fixed a glare onto Lynara as she watched her place some gold pieces into her pack.

"And killing them isn't? Lynara scoffed, straightening her back as she stood. "Look, the things that we take can help the Inquisition, which in turn will help all of those people dying back in the Crossroads. I think that outweighs any morality issues you may have with looting the dead."

"She has a point, Seeker," Varric said, interrupting Cassandra before she could start arguing.

"Of course _you _would agree with her," she snarled at Varric with that all too familiar scowl.

"I'm afraid I must also agree with Lynara," Solas chimed in.

Cassandra's eyes darted between the three of them, seeking some kind of answer. Finally, she sighed in defeat. "Fine," she drawled.

Ignoring her reluctant defeat, Lynara started to pull the bodies into a pile. "What are you doing?" Cassandra asked.

"Burning them," she explained, straining as she pulled the warrior templar, his weight too much for her to make much progress.

A surprised sound parted Cassandra's lips and she quickly joined Lynara in her struggle, the two of them dragging the body into the pile. Varric and Solas joined in, pulling the last bodies into the makeshift pyre. Standing back, Lynara closed her eyes and bowed her head. "Falon'Din enasal enaste," she breathed the words, opening her eyes and flicking her hand forward to allow a spark of flame to ignite the bodies. The pile soon roared with a flame that warmed her face, the smell of charred skin making her eyes burn.

Without another word, she turned her back to the flames and pressed on towards Master Dennet's farm, trying to forget the dead faces that stared at her in her mind's eye. With bloodied hands and a bloodied heart, she knelt down next to the river that cut across their path and dipped her hands into the water. She scrubbed at the stained red leather, trying to get the blood out. Even as the water turned red around her hands, the stains stayed as a reminder. A reminder of what she had to do once again.

* * *

**AN: I realized my last chapter was rather short so I worked quick to try and get another chapter out there with a little bit more substance. Reviews and feedback are always appreciated as I'm trying to become a better writer! Anywho, hope ya'll enjoy!**

**-Mandrs**


	6. Mage Pride

Acquiring the horses from Master Dennet had proved simple enough. Dispatching the rift near the wolves den seemed to appease the creatures as they were no longer driven mad by the nearby demons. With the wolves no longer a threat, the horse master was more than happy to lend his aid to the Inquisition. Lynara hadn't expected the human to oblige so quickly. It was a pleasant surprise.

The resources they found along their travels were abundant and Lynara was constantly dismounting her horse to pluck an herb from the dirt, rolling the leaf between her fingers and sniffing at the oil to identify it. With her map in hand, lip pinched between her teeth in thought, she'd mark the map that was ever present in her hand. After hours of traveling through the wilderness, it was covered in markers and points of interest to the point that it would be impossible for anyone to read other than herself.

Having the horses was a huge benefit as well. The tranquility of the beast resonated through her being, bringing her a peace that made her unknowingly smile. Absentmindedly, she let her fingers smooth the fine chestnut hair of his mane and whispered sweet platitudes to calm him whenever needed. The other horses, all except Solas', were growing antsy with their constant delays.

"You have a natural affinity with animals," Solas pointed out to Lynara, a smirk pulling at his lips as he watched the pony underneath Varric prance in protest, whining at the dwarf's commands.

"I'm an elf, remember?" she chuckled, gesturing at her pointed ears. "I have to live up to the stereotypes, or the humans might lose their minds."

"I'm right here, you know?" Cassandra said, giving her leader a pointed look. Solas chuckled, a calm and playful expression pulling at his usually sharp and stiff features. There was a strange ease that he seemed to be adopting as he continued to travel with them. It was a refreshing change.

"Come now, Seeker. You know I have nothing against you and your kind, as long as I'm treated with respect," Lynara smirked, leading her horse forward down the mountain path. "Now if you had met me ten years ago, I might not be able to say the same."

"Really?" Cassandra asked, eyebrows flying up to her hairline. "I find that hard to believe."

"Oh yes, I was downright awful," she explained, her eyes lighting up with playful mischief. "Blamed the entirety of the human race for my misfortunes. Ransacked their villages during my travels, poisoned their wells, stole their babies, all to exact my revenge." Her voice dripped with sarcasm.

"Now why would a Grey Warden steal a bunch of babies during the blight? Seems highly irresponsible," Varric teased while still trying to get his pony to go down the rocky hill.

"Elven blood sacrifices, of course," Solas joined in with the teasing, a wistfulness bringing a musical quality to his voice. His grey mare easily trotted past Varric who was frowning at the ease the elf commanded on top of the beast.

"Well that's just wrong," Cassandra frowned, following steadily on her black gelding, the beast huffing indignantly as the woman bristled on top of him.

"They're messing with you, Seeker," Varric laughed, shaking his head.

"I know that," she retorted, rolling her eyes.

Not wanting to go down the hill, Varric's pony bucked once, twice, and then stopped, allowing the dwarf time to regain some composure. Lynara sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose in disbelief at his incompetence. "Varric, the creature responds to your emotions. If you are calm and offer him some kind of comfort, then perhaps he will respond positively to your commands," she explained, growing tired of watching the two struggle down the mountain pass. One of them was sure to get injured if his poor control finally faltered.

She could hear the dwarf grumble, but listened and soothed the pony regardless, patting the side of his neck and whispering something only they could hear. The pony seemed to calm down a little bit, willingly turning down the path when Varric pulled his reigns that way. The dwarf's back straightened and he huffed out a surprised laugh as he got the creature to listen. "Well shave my chest and call me an elf. The lady elf knows what she's on about," he beamed.

"Was there ever any doubt?" Solas quipped, shaking his head while he struggled to hide a smile at the dwarfs strange choice of words.

Lynara blushed at his implication, her cheeks growing rosy on her suntanned skin. "Please, I am far from perfect," she mumbled, mostly to herself.

"Indeed," Solas agreed rather quickly, making the blush burn a shade darker in embarrassment. "Yet there are few who are." His words were full of wisdom and meaning and she knew he meant them to be taken as a lesson.

Shoulders stiff, she pushed past the group. "Of course, _hahren_," she said with a bitter twist of her mouth. It was like traveling with Wynne all over again, small lecture after lecture. Eventually she did get use to her grandmotherly ways, how her nagging eventually turned into sentiment filled with worry and care. Perhaps one day things would be the same with Solas. Lynara doubted it, he was prideful while Wynne was humble.

After clearing the mountain pass, Lynara found herself drawn by the pull of her Anchor, leading her south of Dennet's farm. The tugging pulled her to where the veil was weak and the faint glow of the tear could be seen through the trees. Dismounting, they left their horses several paces away from the rift to ensure their safety before they approached.

The rift posed no problems, but the bandits that ambushed while Lynara sealed the rift did. They appeared out of the tree line, swords and axes brandished with fervor. One of the men clad in rusty, dented chainmail came running at Lynara as she ripped her hand back with a flourish, sealing the rift for good. His axe came down to slice open her chest but she quickly stepped into the fade, traveling across the battlefield to Solas' side, who had once again protected himself with several ice mines.

Scanning the battlefield, she counted eight men bellowing towards them. They were severely outnumbered, she realized with a frown, tightening her grip on her staff as she flung several ice shards on the enemy. Her target managed to skillfully block them with his shield, the magic deflecting towards the earth. Growing tired of playing it safe, she pulled a barrier around herself, called forth an aura of might, she fade stepped back into the fray and summoned a spirit blade into her hands. She sliced at one of the warriors from behind, managing to take his head clean off with a single blow. Blood spewed from his wound like a fountain, spraying her face and momentarily blinding her vision.

A blur of black and red came at her from her left side, a sword quickly slashing down towards her. With the sharp steel mere inches from her chest, she managed to parry the move with her own sword, grunting at the strain of it. Using the might of her aura, she pushed him back, staggering him long enough to call immolate onto him. Wrenching in pain, the bandit flailed his sword in front of him, managing to catch the plate armor protecting Lynara's shoulder. As if the blade was stuck there, he couldn't move. This gave her a chance to knock him to the earth. She finished him off by striking him clean through the chest, the sound of his last grunted breath sent a thrill down her spine.

Looking up from the pooling blood at her feet, she saw Cassandra being overrun by three different men. Varric lost his footing to a large bandit with a broadsword, falling to the earth with a grunt. All while Solas focused on taking out two archers, one of them splintering into pieces at his command.

"We have to help them!" Lynara called over to Solas as she watched Varric rolling out of the way of the big man's broadsword. Luckily the bandit wielded the weapon poorly, allowing the dwarf to predict his slow movements enough to get away.

Solas casted a barrier onto them, but Lynara knew it wouldn't be enough. The enemies were too many and their allies wouldn't be able to hold out much longer. Already she could see that Cassandra's defenses were weakening and Varric was slowing down in his movements due to fatigue. As she rushed forward, her heart dropped into her gut as she watched a blade slice through Cassandra's arm, drawing a decent amount of blood. Next to her, Varric managed to shoulder the blunt side of the bandit's sword, knocking him to the ground once more.

An arrow whizzed past Lynara's head, just barely missing. She had forgotten about the remaining archer. Before she could react, another arrow came flying, hitting her right above the heart. The pain staggered her, her breath gasping from her lungs. The sudden sharpness squeezing her chest made her want to fall to her knees. But she pushed forward, gritting past the pain.

"Take out the archer!" she yelled hoarsely to Solas over her shoulder while fade stepping into the thick of the combat, reappearing mere inches away from the enemy. Pulling on a large amount of mana, she summoned a blizzard to her aura, cultivating it until it was big enough to freeze everyone around her. Extending her arms in a flourish, she released the icy blast outward, freezing solid the four bandits, as well as Cassandra and Varric. Luckily Solas heeded her command, felling the archer before her spell was cast, which allowed her to safely dispatch of her frozen foes without fear of her allies breaking.

Taking the sharp end of her staff, she brought it down on each frozen enemy, watching them shatter at her feet. When she looked up, Solas was nearby, defrosting their friends, an unreadable expression darkening his features.

Cassandra and Varric both collapsed to the ground with a gasp of breath, their hair and clothes drenched with water.

"Maker's breath!" Cassandra said through desperate gasps for air. "Was that really necessary?"

"Andraste's ass, I hate magic," Varric grumbled, pushing wet blonde hair out of his eyes.

Ignoring their annoyed and bewildered glares, Lynara fell to her knees, her hand reaching for the arrow sticking out of her left shoulder. Reaching out for the wound with her magic, she felt the inside of her body, noticing with a frown as she felt how the arrowhead obstructed and tore through a major artery. The moment she pulled it from her body, she would bleed out.

"Be still, Seeker," She heard Solas say, She turned to see him reaching out with glowing blue hands towards the wound on Cassandra's arm. She hissed in response, but stilled at his touch. Lynara watched with envy as his healing magic made quick work of the injury, Cassandra's skin began stitching itself back together in a matter of seconds. Lynara's hand hovered shakily over her wound and she knew she could not heal this herself. It was not a school of the arcane she was skilled in.

"Hey Chuckles, I think our Hero here might need some help," Varric said with a frown, his disgruntled expression washing into concern. Solas looked up from Cassandra's arm, his eyes landing on the arrow's shaft sticking out of Lynara's chest and then snapping coldly onto her pale and sweaty face.

He rushed over to her side, his expression hard as his hand lit up with a blue magic, assessing the damage. "Must you be so reckless, _da'len_," he chided, anger flashing in his eyes like hot iron.

"Mmm, it'll take a lot more than an arrow to the chest to kill me," she hummed, her head lolling to the side. Unfocused eyes found a small flower nestled in the grass, the pastel pinks and purples catching her stare. The sound of him clicking his tongue in disapproval made her smirk, though she wasn't quite sure why.

"One of you hold her, I'm going to remove the arrow," Solas said. Lynara felt Casssandra's strong steady hands come up from behind her, holding her tight, one hand on each of her arms. "Three… two… one," he said, pulling the arrowhead hard against her chest while Cassandra held her steady. As the arrow came free from her flesh, she retched forward with a grunt. White hot pain flashed across her vision and fresh blood poured out of the wound even faster than before.

The wound burned. The pain ate away at her thoughts and she wondered what Solas was waiting for. She looked over at him and saw his intense concentration as his hands glowed with a blinding blue. It worked its way into her body, finally muting the searing pain and she felt the cool touch of his magic seeping into her veins, stitching them up inch by inch. His magic poured into her, washed over her like water washed away sin. It swelled her heart as it reminded her of home with its strange familiarity, made her feel loved and whole again. Her parted lips turned into a smile as she watched him work his craft, his brow furrowed with focus, his lips pressed together in fierce determination.

The wound sealed, leaving behind a pink scar that puckered her skin. Solas withdrew his magic, leaving Lynara feeling empty, and cold. She shivered.

"Drink this," he said, handing her a health potion. She frowned at him as he stood up, taking the potion and knocking it back with one quick drink. The potion was bitter, leaving an aftertaste in her mouth that made Lynara wrinkled her nose with distaste.

"Ma serannas," she huffed, trying to stand up on her own. Cassandra noticed her struggle and offered her a hand. Still weak with blood loss, the world around her swirled, making her feel dizzy. She took Cassandra's hand with a timid smile, steadying herself.

"We should make camp for the night," Solas said, looking towards a clearing that would make a decent spot for camp. "We are too weak to carry on. It would be wise of us to recover."

"Indeed," Cassandra agreed.

Solas did most of the work setting up camp, as Varric was severely bruised, Cassandra sore, and Lynara weak from blood loss. While he did so, Cassandra led Lynara to a small creek, allowing both of them to clean the blood from their faces and armor in a comfortable silence. When they returned, a fire was full grown at the center of the camp, a tent had been pitched and Solas was casting protective ruins on the perimeter of their camp with the mana he had left.

Lynara unrolled her bedroll in front of the fire and sat down, stripping off her armor so all she wore was her tunic and leather breeches. Her stomach growled with a fierce hunger and she sifted through her pack for a pouch of nuts and berries that she had collected during her travels. They were ripe and fat with flavor, Lynara noticed with a smile as she savored the berry's sweet acidity dancing across her tongue.

"How are you feeling?" Solas asked Lynara while sitting down next to her.

"Better, thank you," she said while picking at the food in her cupped hand. With an extended hand, she offered some to Solas, who happily took a berry and plopped it into his mouth. He hummed in approval.

"You fight very recklessly," he said, breaking their comfortable silence. "You should really be more careful." The disapproval in his voice reminded her of how Keeper Marethari used to scold her, reprimand her for one word misspoken, one ritual misplaced, any little thing done wrong. It made her feel like a child again.

"I've always fought this way. What would you have me do differently, _hahren_?" she said with a frown.

"For one, not turning me into a block of ice would be nice," Varric grunted from the other side of the fire, still bitter about the magic used on him.

Cassandra hummed in agreement, "Or some warning would be nice."

Lynara shook her head at their disapproval. "You two were over run, I feared for your lives. I saw no other way to save you," she explained, watching their guarded expressions with care. It would not bode well for her companions to distrust her. "I knew the spell would do you no harm."

"Well… shit. At least you killed them all," Varric said with a wave of his hand, dismissing the subject.

"Why do you run headlong into battle as you do? Wouldn't it just be safer to stand back and cast your spells from a distance?" Cassandra asked, curiosity bubbling in her voice.

"My reasoning is… complication," Lynara sighed.

"Complicated? Sounds like a story to me," Varric said, popping up with interest, his eyes lighting up with fire.

"Perhaps. But not one I wish to tell," she said.

"Oh, come on Hero. The night is still young, there's so much time to spare," he goaded her with a smirk. The sun was still in the process of setting, the faint glow of its rays reaching out over the mountain top. And even though she was tired, she didn't want to go to sleep just yet. Besides, the dwarf made a fair point. What else would they do in the few hours before bed? This was a time for telling stories.

"Fine," she said, giving in. "But I warn you, it's not very interesting."

"Make it interesting, we won't know any better," Varric said with a chuckle. Lynara shook her head. She was no storyteller.

"Before the blight, before I was a Gray Warden, I was but a foolish Dalish child. I was the Second to Keeper Marethari, even though I was older than Merril, who was the Keeper's First. In truth, I should've been First, but I shirked my responsibilities and studies, running off to go play hunter, so they stripped me of the title," Lynara said pausing as she remembered her time spent running through the woods with Tamlen at her side. A frown pulled at her lips, turning her expression somber.

"Why would you favor a bow to your magic?" Solas asked, disbelief betraying his passive expression.

"As I said, I was a foolish child," she laughed, shaking her head. "I fell in love with a Dalish hunter and we would run off into the woods together, chasing down game, exploring ruins, running off the _shemlen _that came too close to our settlement. I much preferred Tamlen's company to that of Keeper Marethari. Her lessons bored me. And even though she said I had quite the affinity for magic, I didn't care nor did I listen. I liked the way the earthly weapons felt in my hands. The way a bowstring creaked against my ear every time I drew it. The way the arrow flew silently through the air to strike my unsuspecting target. The way my blade easily carved away flesh. And the way my dagger felt like an extension of myself when I spun and danced around my foe.

"'Stupid, foolish, _da'len_. The Creators granted you with a beautiful, otherworldly power and you choose to squander it.' My Keeper used to say to me. Truth be told, I don't know why they tolerated my insolence for so long. It's no wonder they were glad to be rid of me," Lynara said with a frown, looking away past the fire into fresh darkness of night.

"What do you mean? What happened next?" Cassandra said, almost in a whisper.

"Tamlen and I…" she started with a shaky breath. "Found some humans close to our camp. They told us about an ancient ruins nearby. I was instantly curious, as we had been settled there for quite some time and we'd never come across the ruins that they spoke of. After running them off," she left out the fact that she might have killed them in cold blood, "I convinced Tamlen to come with me to check out the ruins. I may have been a shitty Second, but I was still interested elvhen history, in finding lost ruins and artifacts. In fact, it was the only thing I enjoyed about my lessons.

"The ruin was strange, human in nature but they had remnants of elvhen history inside. The veil was thin there and there were undead protecting a room that would hold my undoing," she paused, scanning the expressions of her companions. Cassandra and Varric waited with bated breath for her to continue. Even Solas seemed intrigued by her story which made her lips twitch with the hint of a smile.

"What was inside?" Solas asked with a tilt of his head.

"A mirror," she watched as some unknown expression flash across his blue eyes. Did he know what it was? With all his knowledge, it would not surprise her. "I was entranced by it, pulled in by the power that resonated from this mysterious artifact. I wanted to sit there and study it, but Tamlen urged me to leave. When he tried to pull me away, something happened. A red, hot flash of light overcame me and I blacked out.

"When I awoke, I was back at camp. But Tamlen was… gone," she said with a sigh. A somber mood enveloped the camp, the crackling of the fire punctuated the silence. "A Grey Warden by the name of Duncan saved me. Apparently, when we got close to the mirror, it activated it or something, allowing darkspawn to pour out of it like a portal. The Gray Warden managed to save me, somehow. But Tamlen was gone, he said. Dead, he said."

"I have heard about these mirrors," Solas breathed, surprise clear on his face. "They're called Eluvians. They acted as roads, connecting the ancient elvhen empire... I cannot imagine darkspawn being able to use such a relic."

"Well, they did," she frowned.

"So is that how you became a Gray Warden?" Cassandra asked.

Lynara hummed, nodding her head. "I had been tainted with the blight. Keeper Marethari's magic kept it at bay for a while, but it would eventually kill me. Duncan offered me a second chance at life. He said that joining the Gray Wardens would save me. I was so distraught about the death of my lover, the blame that my clan put on me for his death, and the idea of being sent away from my family, I refused. I would have rather died than join a _shemlen _war.

"But nothing was ever that easy. Duncan invoked the Right of Conscription, and my Keeper honored it, forcing me into the ranks of the Gray Wardens," she paused, the fire betraying the sadness in her eyes. "The rest is history. You know what happened at Ostagar, you know that I was saved by Asha'bellanar. And then it was just me and Alistair against the blight," Lynara said with a laugh. "If you had known back then that it was up to two new Gray Wardens, one of them not knowing a lick of combative magic, to save the world against the coming blight, you would've thought us all doomed," she laughed, but there was very little humor in it.

"Luckily Asha'bellanar sent her daughter with us. Morrigan taught me how to cast offensive spells, but I still found myself itching for grittier combat. I often used a sword or bow, augmenting it with magic. It wasn't until I found a spirit deep within the ruins of the Brecilian Forest that I learned how to fight like a Knight Enchanter. This specialization seemed to suit me well.

"A spirit taught you? Most interesting," Solas said with a hint of approval in his voice. However, Lynara caught Cassandra's disapproval from across the campfire.

"You trusted a spirit? It could've been a demon!" Cassandra chided.

"It could have been, but there was nothing sinister about this spirit as far as I could tell," she said with a chuckle. "It had been an elvhen spirit, trapped within a phylactery for a millennia. It offered knowledge for its freedom. If it wished me harm once I released it, I did not know. But I did not fear it either way. I had encountered many things in my travels and a demon did not frighten me like they once had. Besides, Alistair was trained in the way of the Templar. I did not fear possession with him around," she said with fondness in her voice. Thinking of him made her heart flutter with a sadness she wished she could forget. The thought of her past lovers weighed heavy on her heart.

"Bravo, Hero," Varric said with a wide smile, clapping his hands slowly. "That was quite the story you just told. You say you're no storyteller, but you could've fool me."

"Yes, well, next time I expect one of your to tell the story," she said with a heavy sigh pulling at her heart. The recount of old memories brought forth a sadness that was covered in dust. And blowing it all away to relive the past made her tired.

"I think I shall go to sleep now," she said, realizing just how drained she was from the day. Laying down on her back, she let her eyes trail up to the sky as she counted the stars above her.

Relaying her story made her realize how much she hated her magic when she was a child. But now with time and experience changing her soul, she cherished it, mastered it when she could. Being a mage was a title she was proud to uphold. With a resigned smile twitching the corner of her mouth, she set aside her emotions and let the fade pull her into its arms once more.


	7. Homesick

She awoke before sunrise, the taste of nightmares fresh on her tongue.

Images of Darkspawn overrunning the Tower of Ishal as their poisoned arrows ripped through her skin still lingered in her mind, the ghost pain of a memory stinging her recent flesh wound. Without thinking, her fingers trailed over the skin that had been torn by the bandit's arrow, finding it smooth and slightly chilled by the night air. It surprised her that there was no puckered skin where the wound had sealed. Solas' healing magic had been very potent, she noted.

The camp was quiet except for the gentle sound of someone snoring behind the thick canvas of their single tent. It had to be either Cassandra or Varric, as she realized Solas had slept under the stars with her, his bedroll and still frame resting on the other side of the fire. The fire was still lit, thanks to a rune he had cast in order to keep the fire stoked and contained throughout the night. It warmed her face and made her forget the imaginary pain that resided in her delusional grogginess. As she slowly started to wake up, she began feeling somewhat real again.

She rose from her bedroll and she could see him peacefully sleeping, the light of the fire dancing over his motionless face. His pale skin glowed in the orange light, allowing tiny brown freckles to appear under his eyes and on his nose. Just barely she could see his lidded eyes moving as he explored the fade.

A pang of envy rang through her heart at the prospect of being able to sleep so peacefully.

With a heavy sigh, she began to dress herself for the day. Starting from the bottom up, she tightened the greaves over her dark leather leggings. The metal came to a point over her knee and extended over the top of her foot, leaving the soles of her feet bare, allowing her to feel the earth against her calloused toes. Next came her robe, which billowed gently in the wind like a fringed cape. She buckled her belt over the dark fabric, pulling the robe tight against her slight frame. At last, she laced the pauldrons and bracers over her shoulders and arms, pulling her dark leather gloves over her cold hands.

It was too early to rouse her companions, but recent dreams left dark impressions in her mind that she wanted to work off somehow. She looked out towards the dusk covered forest, listening intently as animals began to awaken and scurry through the foliage. The sound of bristling leaves and the crunch of grass gave way to an idea of tracking prey in dusk's meager light, letting an arrow fly loose, and claiming a bounty for the hungry bellies back at the Crossroads.

She slung her staff onto her back and set out, careful not to disturb the wards placed around the camp.

The early morning breeze was chilly on her cheeks as she stepped away from the comfort of her fire and into the unforgiving wilds of the forest. The tips of her ears were pink with chill, so she pulled her hood up, her elven eyes peering past the shadows of her cowl and further past the darkened trees. Her ears searched for the crunching of grass, the snorting of a beast not too far away. She moved slowly, careful not to snap any rogue twigs on the ground. She rounded a great redwood tree and gingerly pressed against the rough bark as to steady herself as she laid her predatory gaze at the elk grazing the tall shadowy grass. It was quite a large elk, belly full of fat and sustenance as it prepared for the cold winds coming up from the south. It's bounty would provide a hearty meal for those in need.

Knowing what she needed to do, she pressed her back against the trunk of the tree, putting it between her and the elk. As if it were second nature, mana hummed under her skin, pulling at the fade as it searched for easy purchase. A sturdy, but lightweight bow shimmered into her hand, manifesting from the fade as she visualized a memory of a bow from her childhood—Master Ilen's bow, curved and carved with Dalish precision. It's iridescent glow bathed her face in the darkness, a minor inconvenience when trying to be stealthy—She would need to work quickly.

The bow rested easy in her grip and she tested the weight once as she pulled an arrow out of the fade and into her hand. It felt familiar, easy. It made her heart flutter with excitement. Arrow knocked, she pivoted smoothly around the tree, pulling the fabricated bowstring swiftly towards her ear as she inhaled in tandem with the silent creaking wood of her memory. Dilated pupils found its mark still grazing peacefully. She narrowed in on her intended prey and let loose the arrow. It shimmered in the air as it flew to its mark, sparkles of fade dust trailing behind like a shooting star. The beast looked up just as the shining arrow came into view but it was too fat and slow to react quickly and the sharp edge pierced it right in the heart.

A clean kill.

The bow dissipated from the realm of reality and shimmered as it faded back into the world of dreams. She closed in on her kill and found it laid still against the earth, it's blood pooling around its body and staining the green grass red. The smell of iron flooded her senses and sent her heart racing as she recognized and prayed silently over her kill.

Knowing it would be unwise to clean her kill in the middle of the forest without the protection of her camp, she mentally reached for her aura and willed it to change. She willed it to provide strength instead of mana.

She groaned at the elks weight as she tried to lift it from the ground.

Even with her newfound strength, the beast was still too heavy for her to lift. With the little mana she had left after changing her aura, she willed force magic to pull the beast into the air, levitating it to allow her to push the creature through the air with relative ease.

When she returned to the camp, she found her companions still fast asleep, even as the sun began to rise. She lowered her bounty onto the ground not too far from the fire and breathed a sigh of relief as the strain of the elk's weight and the weight of the now distant nightmares vanished from her shoulders.

With a snap, her aura shifted back around her like a rubber band, low with mana but still humming with faint power. Her hand mindlessly reached for a lyrium potion stowed in one of her pouches. Knocking back the vial, the blue liquid tingled her lips and tongue, sliding down her throat with a burn that sang to her veins. The hum of power bellowed into a song and her vision became distorted and iridescent as her body absorbed the lyrium. The fire at the center of the camp shifted and danced as orange light consumed her vision but soon faded into a soft glow as the lyrium pooled peacefully inside of her.

Strength returned, she sat down before her kill. Taking up her knife, she began to carve back the skin, her hands working out of habit while her mind drifted.

What was she doing here? Traveling with people she didn't know, people that expected her to complete an impossible task yet again. Either she had very poor luck, or very good luck—she couldn't decide. After all, she should've died on more than one occasion. The fact that she was still alive after contracting the blight, after slaying the Archdemon, after coming head to head with the Mother, after the explosion at the conclave, was a mystery in and of itself. She should be dead. She knew this. But her fated dance with Fortune had her chasseing back and forth between good and bad luck.

Such thoughts made her think about her future.

What would happen to the Anchor after she sealed the Breach?

What would come of the Inquisition?

Her journey was still so new and yet she already had so many questions.

Would Cassandra expect her to stay with the Inquisition once their task was completed? After all, she was a religious icon now, much to her dismay. It seemed unlikely that they would let her go do whatever she wanted in the name of Andraste.

The Grey Wardens once fought against her stepping down. They insisted that she had a duty to the organization. She was bound by blood, they had said. So she sought a way to relieve herself from such a duty.

If growing up Dalish taught her anything, it was how to disappear in the wilderness. So that's what she did—she vanished without a trace.

The camp was quiet except for the sound of her knife slicing away thick skin and tendons. Everyone slept so deep and peacefully, nobody even stirred when she returned with her kill. It would be so easy to slip away, grab her horse and just ride into the wilderness. To do things on her own without any obligations to anyone but herself.

The idea made her smile.

But she knew that she would not be able to close the Breach on her own. Cassandra made it very clear that she would need the help of either the Templars or the Mages in order to summon enough power to close the Breach. The smile on her face slowly faded away at the prospect that she would have to pick a side. For her, it was an obvious choice. But she knew that the majority of Southern Thedas would not agree with her choice, even if it was the one that made the most sense. Mages had a lot of power, especially when pooled together, and she needed power to close the Breach. Surely they would understand. They would have to, she decided.

The sun was finally starting to rise, its golden tendrils reaching through the shadows of a dozen trees. She closed her eyes with a smile, welcoming the sun's warm touch on her cheeks.

"What a ridiculously Dalish sight," Varric's voice cut through the silence, making her open her eyes in a flutter. He was stretching in front of the tent, staring at her with tired eyes, the heaviness of sleep still pulling at his expression.

"There's nothing Dalish about what I'm doing. Hunting and skinning are perfectly normal things to do," she scoffed, turning back to her work at hand. Dark red blood stained the black leather of her gloves as her knife continued to cut away flesh from meat. She was almost done with one side of the elk.

"Yes, hunting and skinning are perfectly normal things to do, for people who spend a lot of time in the wilds, that is. But when someone does it looking all peaceful and smiley like you are, as if they're thanking the Gods themselves for the kill, then it's definitely a Dalish thing," he said with a chuckle and a wave of his hand.

She snorted and shook her head. Her hands continued to pull and carve.

"Can't take the Dalish out of the elf, I guess," she said sardonically.

Truth be told, she rarely considered herself Dalish anymore, but whenever anyone looked at her and saw the dark green vallaslin branching out over her skin, they immediately assumed. She didn't blame them, and quite honestly, it didn't really bother her. But it did make her sad sometimes. Made her miss her childhood home—The creaking of the aravels, the smell of the halla after a rainstorm, the excitement of the hunt, the taste of fresh meat shared by the clan over a warm fire.

Her heart fluttered with homesickness, a sad smile pulling at her lips as she looked down at the elk in front of her. Cleaning a kill was a task shared by the hunters, but she had hunted alone for so long now that she forgot what it was like being with a clan.

"I'm surprised to see you awake so early," she noted while still looking down at the elk.

"Yeah, well, sleeping on the ground really isn't my thing," he said, looking at Solas who was still sleeping across the way, seeming perfectly content on the ground.

"You'll get used to it."

He scoffed and folded his arms over his chest.

"I'd rather not. I'd be much happier with a warm bed and a roof over my head."

"A child of stone has aversions to sleeping close to the earth? Curious," Solas quipped, sounding ever alert despite the fact that his eyes were heavy with sleep. He rolled onto his side and squinted at the sun.

"Just because I'm a dwarf, it doesn't mean I want to be all close to the Stone with a capital S," he said. "Sometimes people _aren't_ stereotypes. Big shocker, I know. Especially with Dalish over here carving away at an elk like it's no big deal."

She rolled her eyes at the dwarf.

"Hunting isn't a Dalish thing, we've been over this Varric," she said dryly, her eyes catching on Solas' movement across the camp as he rose from his bedroll, a curious expression pulling at his sleepy features as he took in the sight of her skinning.

"You've been busy this morning," Solas noted as he rolled up his bedroll, his cool blue eyes watching her bloody hands.

"I couldn't sleep," was all she said. No need to mention the constant nightmares that plagued her during the night.

"May I help?" he asked. For a moment she thought he was offering to help her sleep, causing a soft blush to creep onto her cheeks. Then she saw his hand gesture towards the beast and she realized he meant something else entirely. She cleared her throat and nodded, trying to clear the blush from her face.

"Sure."

Varric snorted a curt laugh and shook his head as he watched the two elves start carving away at the creature in silence. The dwarf turned on them and headed towards a bush several paces from the camp, likely to relieve himself, she figured.

It was just the two of them, and she quickly realized how close they were to each other. When she looked up at him, she could see those faint freckles easier than before, his long lashes casting shadows over his eyes as he looked down at his hands. Feeling the weight of her stare, he looked up to meet her gaze. A rogue smile tugged at her lips at the awkwardness of being caught and she hastily looked away, focusing on the elk the laid between them.

They silently worked in tandem to clean the kill and it reminded her of her childhood, of hunters working together. But it made her feel strange. He was clearly no hunter, he bore no Vallaslin, he held himself with the confidence of a noble, but dressed like a wanderer of the wilderness.

"There are no burn marks or frozen fur on this pelt. In fact, it seems to be in perfect condition. How did you kill it, if not with magic?" he asked suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence between them.

"With a bow and arrow," she shrugged. His eyes flashed up to hers, a question hanging in the air. Her lips twitched with a hint of a smile at his curiosity. "Magic bow and arrow," she readily explained.

"Interesting," was all he said before he turned his gaze back down to the elk.

"You've been travelling on your own for a long time, yes? Surely you have experience hunting. How would you have done it?" she asked.

"A bow and arrow is a fine weapon to have used. But I would probably have opted for force magic of some sort to break its neck. Or perhaps caught it in a stasis trap and then finished it off cleanly that way," he said thoughtfully.

"Interesting," she echoed him. "Once we're done carving the meat, I'd like to return to the Crossroads. They could use this meat and pelt and some of the herbs I've collected. Then we can go back to Haven," she said, thinking out loud. He simply hummed in agreement and a comfortable blanket of silence returned around them.

There was much that still needed to be done back in Haven. She still needed to sort out the tension between the Inquisition and the Chantry, as well as pick a side to the Mage-Templar War. It wasn't something she was looking forward to doing, but she knew it needed to be done.

Sooner rather than later.

* * *

The sight of Haven never looked so good.

In all her years, she had never expected to return to Haven without a sense of dread following fast underfoot. Memories told her this place was dangerous, but her eyes showed her it was a place of succor and safe keeping.

It was strange to see the welcoming faces of the Inquisition greeting her as her party road up the pass with Master Dennet, Mother Giselle and several Inquisition soldiers in tow. Smiling villagers waving their hellos, while stationed soldiers around the perimeter saluted them while they passed.

A tight lipped smile was all she could muster in greeting.

Even after she defeated the Archdemon, humanity quickly glossed over her achievements by focusing on Alistair, the new King of Ferelden. Celebration of her victory was mixed in with the coronation of the King and many forgot that she just saved their world as she disappeared in the revelry. It hadn't surprised her. In fact she allowed it to happen, slipping into the background like a servant, listening and watching. She was an elf living in a human's world after all.

Now humans openly stared at her with a mix of curiosity, skepticism, and reverence. If she wanted to fade into the background, the leaders of the Inquisition wouldn't allow it. They were working a plan that she could see being spun around in their minds like a web of secrets and intrigue. They would use her as a holy figurehead to justify their cause, that much was clear.

Did she disagree with them? Not necessarily. She knew that the Inquisition was the only party doing anything to close the Breach, their intentions were aimed towards peace so she felt their cause was just enough. She just wished she wasn't at the front and center of their plans.

When they pushed through the heavy wooden gate that lead them into Haven proper, they could hear a commotion echoing through the cold, thin air from the Chantry.

"Is that a welcome party I hear? A little rowdy for Chantry folk," Varric chuckled.

"I'm afraid not," Cassandra said, tension rolling off of her broad shoulders in waves.

Lynara pushed forward, edging her ears towards the noise, wanting to make out what was going on before her arrival was announced to everyone.

"Your kind killed the Most Holy!" she heard a voice say through the shouting.

"Lies—Your kind let her die!" said another.

"Shut your mouth, mage!"

Lynara frowned at the idea of what she was walking into. An argument between Mage and Templar. She had witnessed enough of those conflicts to last a lifetime.

"Enough!" A familiar voice broke through. As they got closer, she could clearly see Cullen joining the fray, coming between the Mage and Templar and pushing them apart.

"Knight-Captain!" the Templar whined, with a look of indignation.

"That is not my title. We are _not _Templars any longer. We are _all _part of the Inquisition!" he explained, a scowl pulling at his fine features.

"And what does that mean, exactly?" Chancellor Roderick joined in, high and mighty as usual.

She rolled her eyes.

"Back already Chancellor? Haven't you done enough?" Cullen asked sardonically. It seemed he was just as fed up with him as she was.

"I'm curious, Commander, as to how your Inquisition and its 'Herald' will restore order as you've promised," Roderick said while peering out over the amassing crowed. His beady stare met Lynara's as he gestured towards her. She returned his stare with a scowl of her own.

"Of course you are," Cullen said, his patience clearly running thin. "Back to your duties, all of you," he commanded the crowd, dismissing the people as they shuffled away, mumbling. Their gazes lingered on their Herald, apprehension and anticipation heavy in the air. She shuffled her feet at the weight of it.

Chancellor Roderick and Cullen remained in front of the Chantry. They shared heated words to each other, low and quiet to keep curious ears from listening in. Cassandra stood beside her, and it appeared the rest of her travelling party had dispersed with the crowd. The woman to her left looked at her knowingly, nodding curtly and leading the way with confidence towards the Chantry. With a sigh, Lynara followed after her, knowing she would need to confront the growing tensions now that she was surrounded by them.

They passed by the arguing men and Cassandra placed a firm hand on Cullen's shoulder. They met each other's gaze for just a moment. He nodded and turned on the Chancellor, who protested as Cullen started to follow after the two women heading into the Chantry.

For whatever reason, he did not follow them inside. This was surprising. Perhaps he knew when to draw the line after all.

"We must discuss our plans moving forward," Cassandra started, leading them towards the war room at the end of the hall. "Josephine and Leliana are waiting for us."

* * *

Their visit to Val Royeaux did not go as anticipated.

The city was much of what she remembered, but the people were different. They were scared and mourning. While she walked through the polished streets, past spires of blue and gold, past gilded lions and towering statues of Andraste, the people were falling apart. They whispered about her, cowered in their corners and hid behind their ornate masks.

The Chantry was in greater disarray than she had realized. Templars were leaving the city, the Lord Seeker had defied the Chantry, and the people were lost and confused with no one to turn to.

But the strangest part about her trip wasn't her unsuccessful attempt to appeal to the Chantry or the Templars, or their impromptu invitation to visit the Rebel Mages in Redcliffe. It was the companions she picked up along the way.

An elven archer who was apparently the leader of an enigmatic organization who hated nobles. And a human noble who was also the First Enchanter of the Orlesian Circle. It was a match made in heaven, she thought sarcastically.

Vivianne mostly kept to herself while she traveled with them back to Haven, which she was relatively happy about. There was not much they shared in common, Lynara noted as Vivianne stuck to the back of their party with her servants and personal posse that carried her wardrobe and finery.

Sera on the other hand traveled close to Lynara, picking around for information here and there, but mostly minding her own business. Her humble city upbringing made her think fondly of Zevran. They were both just elves trying to get by in a human world.

"You know, for bein' all covered in ink like those elfy elves, you're not very... elfy," Sera decided as she seemed to struggle to find the appropriate descriptor for her. Lynara roused herself from the deep silence that had hung over them for so long and forced herself to look at the elf next to her.

"I have not lived among the Dalish for eleven years," she explained easily.

"Right, but you still go around all barefoot and gross," Sera scrunched her nose as she pointedly stared at her wrapped feet.

"I still grew up Dalish. Some of our customs just… stuck with me, I guess."

She shrugged nonchalantly. There was a comfort with holding on to her childhood ways, she decided. It was a fond reminder of a simpler time. Being Dalish was the only thing that ever made sense to her. Being a Grey Warden certainly didn't, and being the newly declared Herald of Andraste definitely wasn't a welcomed idea. Even when she was neither of these things and she simply traveled Thedas, it didn't feel like she belonged anywhere. City elves were strange in a way that they were basically humans with pointy ears, and humans were never very welcoming, calling her knife ear and asking her to run their fools errands whenever they mistaken her for a servant. The Dalish sometimes welcomed her wearily but since she was not of their clan, their welcome was normally short lived.

"But not the pretentious bits so good on you, yeah?"

Her rampant thoughts came to a sudden halt and she blinked at the unmarked elf. Never had she heard the Dalish described as pretentious. Savage and wild, yes. Pretentious, no.

"What do you mean by 'pretentious bits'?"

"Oh you know, always goin' on about 'proper elf culture,' callin' themselves real elves, the elfiest of elves, kings and queens of the elves, pbbth." Sera explained, sticking out her tongue and blowing, spittle flying in the air. Solas poorly hid a laugh.

She turned her gaze towards him, reading the amused glint in his eye and the repressed smirk toying at his lips.

"And what's your problem with the Dalish, Solas? Allergic to halla?"

"They are children acting out stories, misheard and repeated wrongly a thousand times," he regarded her without so much of a glance.

"Oh, but you know the truth, right?" she glared at the smug expression he wore.

"While they pass on stories, mangling details, I walk the fade. I have seen things they have not."

"They're only trying to restore elvish history. If you learned something new, why not share it with them?"

"Would your clan have listened to what I had learned in my studies? In my travels? Or would they have mocked the flat-ear and his stories, and go back to their ruins?"

"Ugh, this is the pretentious bits I was referring to, yeah? Damn elves always waggin' their tongues about the past. Lost history! Rebuild the empire! Let's be barefoot and weird while arguing about who has the better bullshit! Well guess what, it's all bullshit."

"You do not care about your lost heritage, Sera?" Solas asked.

"What? My heritage?" she threw her head back with a laugh. "And what good would that do me? The past is in the past, yeah? I'd like to keep it there. Makes sense to keep it there."

"If that is how you feel, then perhaps you can respect that for me as well. Leave the past in the past. Just because I grew up Dalish, does not mean I am Dalish," she said pointedly to everyone in the group, her gaze lingering on Solas a little longer than everyone else. The scowl embedded in his forehead loosened slightly.

"Perhaps you should consider wearing some normal shoes, my dear. It would help greatly with this image you are trying to obtain," Vivianne chimed in from the back of the party.

Lynara's shoulders stiffen at her words.

"I will wear whatever I so desire, Madame de Fer. My image is my own. I will not conform myself to meet your Human standards."

"Of course, my dear. But if you are to lead the Inquisition as an elven Herald of Andraste, you may find it challenging if you do not. Humanity won't be able to see you as one of their leaders if you look so vastly differently from them."

Her mouth popped open and she quickly closed it, shaking her head in disbelief.

"Why don't we chop my ears off while we're at it," she nearly growled, tightening her fists around the reins of her horse until her knuckles turned white. Without so much of a thought, she snapped the reins and kicked her horse, commanding it to rush forward down the path, away from her party.

The desire for alcohol burned on her tongue as she rushed away from everyone towards Haven.

* * *

"How are you holding up?" Leliana asked gently, sliding Lynara a cup of something that smelled strong. She looked up to greet her friend with a tight smile, her hands readily reaching for the glass.

"I'm fine as anyone in my situation could be," she said, knocking back the liquor with fervor, the liquid burning her throat all the way down to her stomach. Its warmth wrapped around her cold skin like a blanket.

"You've always been incredibly strong. You will find your way through this."

"I'm strong because I have to be. If you had met me before the blight, you would not say such things. It's funny," she laughed dryly. "I wanted to run so badly from all of this, just like I wanted to run away after Ostagar. I nearly did, too. I was halfway out of Haven when I ran into Cullen. When I saw him again, standing there, commanding his troops, strong as ever, I faltered. Despite everything he went through, he's still fighting for something greater than himself." _And here I am, selfishly yelling to the sky, why me?!_ she thought, with a shameful bow of her head.

"I… understand," Leliana responded as if she could read her thoughts, placing a comforting hand on her friend's shoulder. "But you chose to stay, both times over. And that is all that matters." She poured them both another drink from the amber bottle that sat between them.

"Do you ever think it's all just a game? That we have no say in anything and we're just pawns to be played with?" she asked bitterly, tossing back another shot, relishing in the slow burn that tingled through her core.

"Do you see the sky? The temple ruins? The bones lying in the dust?" she asked, pausing to throw back her own shot, a grimace pulling at her pink lips as she swallowed the harsh liquid. "Even if you didn't support the Divine's peace, you wouldn't call this right. Who could? So many innocent lives—The faithful murdered where the holiest of holies once stood. If the Maker willed this, what is it if not a game or a cruel joke?"

Her answer was not one that she had expected. The question had been rhetorical, a bitter thought that the alcohol allowed her to air. Leliana's response was so full of uncertainty and pain, that it shook her to the core.

"We've been through a lot together. I am surprised to see your faith so shaken," she said in a whisper.

"I used to think I was chosen, just as some say you are. I thought I was fulfilling His purpose for me, working with the Divine, helping people. But now she's dead. It was all for nothing. Serving the Maker meant nothing."

Lynara reached for the bottle and poured two more shots. A silence hung in the air between them. They both knocked back their drinks and sighed in harmony.

"Do you remember when we slayed the Archdemon? Denerim was in flames. So many lives had been lost to the Darkspawn horde. The world around us seemed destroyed and in ruins. It felt like everything was over... But it wasn't," she said, a faint smile twitching at the corner of her mouth. "It was hardly a week after the battle that we celebrated our victory at the palace. So many people were alive and well, smiling, cheering, and toasting to a life we'd all still get to live. We were chosen to bring that victory, to bring that peace. And it would seem that fate has indeed played a cruel joke on us, as we've been chosen to do it all over again."

She sighed, placing a hand on her friends, squeezing ever so gently.

"It wasn't for nothing, Leliana. We bought the world so much time for happiness. And we will again. Whether it's through serving the Maker, or simply serving the people, or serving yourself. We will help people once again. It's kind of what we were made to do," she said with a soft chuckle which Leliana echoed.

"Here I was, trying to comfort you in your time of need, and it would seem that the roles have been reversed," she said laughing somberly. "I know you do not believe in the Maker, but thank you for listening anyways."

"Kind of weird, huh? That out of all the people in the world, that _I _would be chosen as the Herald of Andraste? Remember that one time I defaced that statue of Andraste in Lothering?

"Oh Maker, I do! You dressed her in a pair of frilly underwear and set them on fire. You were so awful," Leliana said with a strange kind of fondness. "Alistair and I were so mad at you."

Lynara's lips split into a wide grin and she laughed at the ridiculousness of it all which Leliana joined in on, the alcohol making them giddy.

"I honestly can't understand why you all followed me in the beginning. I was far from kind to you," she said after the laughter subsided.

"You had been ripped away from your family, your home, and had been thrown into a world you didn't understand. Even despite your anger and bitterness, you were wise and strong. Just as you are now," she explained as she poured another drink for the two of them. "Besides, we didn't have much of a choice, now did we?"

"Just like now," she said, taking the glass that Leliana pushed her with a frown.

"Just like now," Leliana softly echoed as they both gulped the drink down.

Lynara's head started to buzz with warmth, her cheeks glowing with the alcohol's heat.

"I should turn in. Thanks for the talk and the drinks," she said while getting up from her bar stool. "I'm glad you're here, Leliana."

"Likewise, my friend," she said with a warm smile.

She left the tavern and was greeted by the nights cool air, snowy particles slowly falling from the dark sky. The cool breeze felt good against the warmth of her skin which was buzzing with liquor. When she turned to head towards her cottage, she swayed a little too much and lost her balance. As she stumbled, she was caught by a pair of firm and familiar hands.

When she looked up, she was greeted by a cool blue stare framed by long lashes and little brown freckles

"You're back," was all she could think to say.

"Indeed," Solas said, releasing her from his grip. "You should not let Madame de Fer's words bother you so. There is some wisdom to be found in them."

"I am surprised to hear you say that," she bristled, taking a step away from him.

"Why, because I am an elf?" he chuckled, shaking his head. "I simply believe that if you adopted familiarity with the humans they'd be more willing to accept you, and forgive you for whatever crimes they think you have committed."

"I am plenty _familiar _with humans."

After all, she had spent the better part of a year travelling with humans, getting to know them. _Really _getting to know one in particular. Her cheeks blushed at the thought, the liquor burning them rosy red. Solas cocked his head and raised a curious eyebrow at the sight of the burning color against her vallaslin.

"Is that so? Then why are you so against what Vivianne suggested?"

She shook her head, trying to will the blush away.

A part of her didn't want to tell him the truth, she wanted to bottle it away and let it drift away into the sea. But the alcohol in her made the words flow from her mouth before she could stop them.

"My clan was the only home I've ever truly had. So I guess it brings me a small comfort to hold on to a tradition or two that reminds me of a home that I can no longer return to," she said, looking down at her feet as she kicked the snow with her toes. When she looked up, she caught a glint of sadness is his eyes that made her heart skip a beat.

"You cannot go back? Perhaps they will accept you again after all these years."

"Even if that were true, I cannot," she said through a thick throat. She swallowed hard, not daring to look up at his face for fear of letting her emotions run loose. "My clan was completely wiped out."

"I... am sorry. For whatever it's worth," he said low and somber. His voice tugged at her heart in a strange way.

"Yes well," she sighed, willing the knot in her throat away so that she could look up at him. "Now you know why I will not take Vivianne's advice. I shall continue to be barefoot, gross, weird, savage, or whatever it is you people say about the Dalish."

The words came out fast and rushed as they slurred over her tongue. It made Solas' lips twitch upwards.

"Of course," he said with a slight bow of his head.

"Good," she said with a smile. "Good night, then."

"Good night," he said as she stepped passed him towards her cottage.

Her cottage. The temporary home that was waiting for her with a soft glowing fire in the hearth, warming the stone under her feet. It was a quaint little house with a wide rug splayed out at the center. Bookshelves full of books sat on either side of the entryway and a desk sat in the corner of the room. It seemed to have letters and papers that had not been there before. Had someone placed them there for her to read? If so, she had no desire to look over them now. Perhaps tomorrow, she decided.

The thing that called to her most was the bed nestled in the other corner of the room. It was small and Orlesian in style, but comfortable nonetheless. Even though she was accustomed to sleeping on the ground and under the stars, she could appreciate a good, well made, human bed from time to time. With warm alcohol coursing through her veins, she was ready to lay her travel weary body on the soft feathers and drift off into a hopefully dreamless sleep.

It was a fine house, she decided. But she knew it was not somewhere she would return to day in and day out years down the line. It was a place for her to stay while she followed her duties, just like Vigil's Keep.

This was not a home, she reminded herself while slipping comfortably from her armor and into the embrace of her human bed.

* * *

**AN: Oh boy, I apologize about the delay on this one. I had some serious writers block keeping me from gaining progress on this chapter. I finally found some inspiration and was able to wrap this chapter up. Thank you all for the follows/favorites/reviews. It means a lot to me!**


	8. In Peace, Vigilance

A correspondence from the Spymaster had been slipped under her cottage's door early in the morning, a light rap on the wooden door pulling Lynara from her sleep. It was an invitation calling her to a meeting, one she would not ignore, despite the early morning summon.

With out much hesitation or thought about the matter, she quickly dressed and made her way to the Chantry, the cold wind of the mountain waking her up from her grogginess as soon as she stepped outside.

The Chantry was quiet as a mortuary, the only sound in the empty hall was the flickering of flames and the muffled sound of her steps on the long, red rug that guided her towards the war room.

The door was cracked ever so slightly, and she pushed it open to reveal Leliana watching for her, leaning casually against the table at the center of the room.

"There's something important I'd like to discuss with you," she said as Lynara closed the heavy wooden door behind her.

"Of course, what is it?" she asked her heart aflutter with curiosity. When dealing with Leliana, she had always known her to be light hearted and whimsical, unless something was very wrong, in which case she became more of an Orlesian bard and less a traveling minstrel. She was very much a bard nowadays.

"Several months ago, the Grey Wardens of Ferelden vanished. I sent word to those in Orlais, but they have also disappeared. Ordinarily I wouldn't even consider the idea they're involved in all this, but the timing is… curious."

The Grey Wardens disappearing caused her pause, her hand coming up to her chin as she thought about what this news could mean. Her mind wandered to the letter that Warden Commander Clarel had sent her months prior to the Conclave. It had seemed odd that the Wardens would partake in such a meeting, but she had never thought much about it, until now.

Better yet, why would they have reached out to her in the first place? What was their game?

"Why do you think they are involved in all of this?" she asked. Perhaps Leliana knew something that she didn't.

"I cannot say. I just know something doesn't feel right. I know this may be personal for you, which is why I was hesitant to say anything. But I believe it is important that we investigate this."

"Do the others know?"

"The others have disregarded my suspicion, but I cannot ignore it," she said with a frown. "Two days ago, my agents in the Hinterlands heard news of a Grey Warden by the name of Blackwall. If you have the opportunity, please seek him out. Perhaps he can put my mind at ease."

Blackwall. The name didn't ring any bells, but then again, she didn't really expect it to. She hadn't worked with the Grey Wardens for many years, much could have changed in her absence.

"I can't imagine he'd know anything," she said with a heavy degree of skepticism.

"Perhaps. But other than you, he is the only other Grey Warden that is making movement."

If that was true, then the likelihood of him knowing anything was very slim. Thinking back to the Conclave, she tried to push past the hazy wall the kept her memories hidden away. The only thing she could remember clearly was her arrival to Haven. Everything else after that was a puddle of murky haze. Had she met up with the Grey Wardens prior to the explosion? What important pieces was she missing to this puzzle?

A long drawn out sigh escaped her chest as she resigned to her defeat. She knew she wouldn't be able to remember what happened. Perhaps meeting with Blackwall would trigger a memory. Maybe he had been at the Conclave. It was worth a shot to find out, anyway.

"I'll look into it, Leliana," she said with resolve, clasping her hands behind her back. "The Grey Wardens don't just up and disappear all at once. There has to be something going on."

"Good," her friend said with a hint of a smile. "It's a shame I cannot join you on the field."

"Can't, or won't?" she asked with a coy twist of her mouth. Leliana just shook her head, her smile growing wider. With that, she turned on her heels and headed outside to gather her party for another excursion to the Hinterlands.

* * *

"We're traveling all the way back to the Hinterlands just to find one Grey Warden?" Varric asked, his tone petulant.

"He may have answers as to their sudden disappearance," she explained.

"You can't really expect them to be involved in all of this," Cassandra cut in with skepticism.

"She was one of them once. She would know whether they are capable of involvement or not," Solas said.

"Grey Wardens will do anything to stop the blight," Lynara explained, watching the road ahead as her horse casually carried her along. "I do not know if they were involved with the Conclave. But if they had some reason to believe it could end the blight, then… perhaps." She hoped that they were not.

"Well… shit," Varric breathed.

"You have not heard anything yourself?" asked Cassandra.

She shook her head, a feeling of disappointment thinning her lips into a line. She thought about the letter that she received, about the Wardens being at the Conclave. Did nobody see them and question why they were there?

"I'm afraid not. I have not been in contact with them for many years," was all she said. Solas managed to shoot her a curious look and she cursed inwardly at herself for telling him that they had invited her to the Conclave months ago. Alcohol always seemed to loosen her lips.

The letter didn't need to be their concern, not until she had more information anyways. Besides, if they had all been at the Conclave, they would've ran into the Grey Wardens, surely. And if they had run into them, they wouldn't be so skeptical about their involvement. Perhaps they disappeared before the Conclave even took place. That was her hope, anyway.

Not that she liked the idea of the entirety of the Grey Wardens disappearing. But it was a better thought than the idea of them being involved in all of this.

As they approached the Hinterlands, the sky rolled above them with grey, heavy winds, cold and brisk on their skin. All was quiet around them except for the crunching of leaves underneath the hooves of their horses. The smell of dead leaves filled the air, spicy like cinnamon but matted with the earthy flavors of dirt. A telltale sign that winter was coming.

It reminded her of her far off home. Every year before winter fell upon them with heavy white snow, the tall oak and birch trees of the Brecillian Forest would shed their leaves, making stealth difficult. The hunters always had to be extra careful with each step when tracking their kill. Such careful contemplation of each step is how she developed such quietness in the way she moved. It always seemed to surprise her companions, as they were never expecting a mage to be so stealthy, she imagined.

She smiled at a memory of Varric, as he nearly jumped out of his chest hair when he realized that she had been standing behind him for quite some time.

"_If you're looking for a sneak peak to the story I'm writing, you're gonna have to pay for that," he said with a shaky laugh as he tried to regain his composure. His wide hands hovered over the parchment that he had been writing on, hiding his carefully considered words from her curious eyes._

"_Just making sure you're not writing about me," she had said, crossing her arms sternly over her chest as she looked down at him with scrutiny._

"_Oh come on, Hero. Don't be so vain."_

She hadn't really thought he was writing about her, but now she wasn't so sure. Now that they were on the road again, he was constantly watching her, asking questions about her past. She managed to side step most of them, changing the subject to something else, someone else. _Anything _but her.

She regretted ever telling him how she became a Grey Warden. It had been a mistake to open up so freely about her past. Now Varric seemed all too interested and adamant about finding out her story.

"I'm quite amazing at how nobody seems to recognize you," Varric said as they cut through the busy Crossroads.

The people were mostly keeping to themselves, only a few refugees threw curious glances their way. The Mage-Templar war made them skeptical and guarded. Luckily for them, The Inquisition forces were there to protect them, stationed around the perimeter with sword and shield at the ready. The ever watching eye of the Inquisition banner looked out into the wilds, deterring bandits, mages, and templars from stepping foot into the Crossroads.

"It is easy to forget the doings of an elf," she casually explained, surprising herself that there was no bitterness in her tone. If she was being honest, she didn't really want the recognition. So the fact that she received none was fine by her.

"Surely that's not true," Cassandra said with an air of ignorance.

"Other than Shartan, name one elf who has made human history."

Cassandra did not respond. Her lips were hard pressed together in what looked to be thoughtful embarrassment.

"There have been no statues erected in my honor, no paintings painted, no stories written. How would anyone know who I am if they do not even know my name, or what I look like?" Most people simply knew her as the Hero of Ferelden. Seldom few knew her true name. It's why it had been so easy to disappear.

"We can change that," Varric said in a sing song voice, eagerness clear upon his face.

"No," she said with a tone of finality. His shoulders visibly sagged. "Keep in mind, Varric, that I am not complaining, simply explaining."

The topic of her fame, or lack thereof, fell off from there and she was glad. It was not something she wished to discuss any further. She was fine with her status as it was.

After some question of the townspeople, a man named Giles pointed them towards their quandary, which she was grateful for. Now they wouldn't have to roam across the overcast Hinterlands with the wind hard on their backs as they tracked the Warden's movements.

She was surprised, however, to hear the reverence in Gile's voice when speaking of the Grey Warden. Apparently he had been helping the villagers by fending off demons and bandits. It made her curious about this mysterious Warden. What was he doing alone, and why was he here, helping refugees against anything other than Darkspawn?

When they finally caught sight of him, he was commanding and instructing a band of skinny farm boys. He was not what she was expecting, though truth be told, she wasn't exactly sure _what _she was expecting.

He was tall with broad shoulders and age lines marking his weary face. His stature, facial hair, age, and pretty much everything about him, apart from the color of his skin, reminded her of Duncan and she found herself becoming instantly stiff. Though she was older and wiser than she was as a Warden conscript, there was something about the thought of that man that put her on edge. The taste of a sour memory on her tongue, perhaps.

Dismounting her horse, she approached him with a hand cautiously close to the staff on her back. "Blackwall? Warden Blackwall?" She called to him, her voice emphasizing his title with an air of skepticism.

"You're not‒how do you know my name? Who sent you?" He whipped around to get a better look at the elf approaching him, his bushy eyebrows knitted together in consternation. A rogue arrow whizzed by her head and was quickly caught by Blackwall's shield, his reflexes responding just in time. When he lowered his shield, a face of vengeance was revealed, eyes burning bright with fire. "That's it. Help or get out. We're dealing with these idiots first!"

Rallying his conscripts, Blackwall charged into battle, the men barreling into the bandits that threatened them. Caught off guard, Lynara was taken aback by the sudden ambush, watching as Blackwall's men flung their swords around with inexperience against the bandits with their worn leather armor and rusted weapons.

Lynara and her companions quickly joined in and the attackers were put to rest quickly by their expertise. It felt as if her staff had only left the comfort of her back for a mere moment before the enemy was quelled.

"Sorry bastards," Blackwall huffed while he wiped his bloody sword against the grass. The farmer boys followed suite, watching and mimicking their mentor closely. "Good work, conscripts. Even if this shouldn't have happened. They could've‒well, thieves are made, not born. Take back what they stole. Go back to your families. You saved yourselves." With that, the farmers left with their mumbled thank yous and bowed heads. _How odd_, Lynara thought.

"You're no farmer. Why do you know my name? Who are you?" Blackwall quickly turned on her, suspicion clear in his dark, and weary eyes. The fire was no longer present.

"I'm an… agent of the Inquisition," she said carefully. There was a glint of curiosity that flashed in Blackwall's eyes. "I'm investigating whether the disappearance of the Wardens has anything to do with the murder of the Divine."

As she spoke, she drew closer to the supposed Warden. There was something off about him, but she just couldn't place it. There was a strange impulse twitching at her hand. She wanted to reach out and touch him, to feel the familiar taint under his skin.

"Maker's balls, the Wardens and the Divine? That can't‒No, you're asking, so you don't really know," he sighed, a look of worry eating away at his already tired features. "First off, I didn't know they disappeared. But we do that, right? No more Blight, job done. Wardens are the first thing forgotten."

This was true, she supposed. People only looked to the Wardens if Darkspawn were involved. Without the Blight, people felt they really served no purpose. Little did people know that the Darkspawn still posed a threat, Archdemon or no. The image of Broodmothers nesting and breeding underneath the earth made a shiver run down her spine. She quickly shook her head, trying to shake the horribly dark image from her mind.

"When was the last time you were in contact with the Wardens?" she wondered, her eyes scrutinizing him harshly. They peered at him from every angle, looking for something out of place. The more she looked, the more she reached out with her aura to try and feel the taint beating under his skin. Disappointment gripped her chest when she found nothing there.

Would she be able to feel the taint in him now that she could no longer feel it within herself?

"I haven't seen any Wardens for months. I travel alone, recruiting. Not much interest because the Archdemon is a decade dead, and no need to conscript because there's no Blight coming. These idiots forced this fight," he said, nodding towards the corpses that were strewn about the verdant grass in a red, bloody mess. "So I 'conscripted' their victims. They had to do what I said, so I told them to stand. Next time they won't need me. Grey Wardens can inspire, make you better than you think you are."

This made her want to laugh, but she suppressed the urge with a hard press of her lips. She thought of Alistair before and after Ostagar. The only other Grey Warden she knew besides Duncan. The way he fumbled and blustered about with his recruits. And then how he moped for weeks over the deaths of his companions. There had been nothing inspiring about that back then.

Though she supposed her situation was vastly different than most Grey Wardens. Had she ever inspired others to be better than themselves? There was doubt there, in that thought, so she quickly shoved it away, locking it within herself.

"Why haven't you gone missing like the rest of them?" she asked, placing her hands sternly on her hips. Even if what he said was true, it seemed odd to her. A Grey Warden recruiting during a time like this? Mages and Templars were running rampant. Grey Wardens were conscripting Mages all over Thedas to secure their freedom. Surely they didn't need anymore people to be tainted.

"Well, maybe I was going to. Or maybe there's a new directive, but a runner got lost or something. My job was to recruit on my own. Planned to stay that way for months. Years." It seemed too convenient. There had to be something he wasn't telling her. And the fact that she couldn't sense the whispers in his blood deeply bothered her. Even though she knew it was probably because of the Anchor and her own lacking taint, it still ate away at her thoughts. She thought back to the red lyrium at the Temple of Sacred Ashes and how it called to her, whispered dark tendrils into her mind.

There was something off about him, she decided. There had to be.

"Well thank you, Warden Blackwall, for the information," she said, forcing herself to have a note of kindness in her voice despite her distrust. "But where does this leave us?" Though she didn't believe what he said, the Grey Wardens were still missing. Perhaps there was something he knew but wasn't letting on about. Maybe if he joined the Inquisition, she could learn something about the fate of the Wardens from him.

There was a stillness in the air between them, a quiet tension that hung over them like a heavy cloak. A sigh parted her lips as she turned to leave.

"Inquisition.. Agent, did you say? Hold a moment," he said with urgency. There was a pang of hurt in his voice that caused her to halt her steps. "The Divine is dead, and the sky is torn. Events like these, thinking we're absent is almost as bad as thinking we're involved. If you're trying to put things right, maybe you need a Warden. Maybe you need me."

A wry laugh twisted from her mouth. "The Inquisition already has a Grey Warden," she said, peering back at him over her shoulder. A look of surprise pulled his bushy black eyebrows upwards.

"Lynara Mahariel, at your service," she turned fully towards him, bowing sardonically, her arm sweeping lavishly in front of her. She peeked through the blonde curtain of hair that fell in front of her face so she could watch Blackwall's reaction. If he was truly a Grey Warden he would know her name. His look of surprise was quickly replaced by an expression of admiration as he processed her words.

"Hero of Ferelden," he breathed, the reverent tone of his voice made her back stiffen. "Well that settles that. My sword is yours, Sister." He bowed low, brandishing his sword before him, sticking it firmly into the ground.

Rolling her eyes, she beckoned him to stand, hating the way his deference at her status made her feel exposed. It was as if she stood naked in front of the world as they all stared at her with wide eyes.

"That's nice," she cleared her throat and looked away. "The Inquisition will be glad to have you. Come with us back to Haven," she commanded, though it came across as more of a question. A part of her didn't want him to come back with them. She didn't trust him, not yet anyway. But if she was to find anything out about the Wardens, he was their only lead. Keeping him close seemed the logical move.

Blackwall was quick to rise and sheath his sword. He followed close behind her, eager despite the weariness that seemed to weigh down his broad shoulders. He was like an aged mabari war hound, hard on her heels with keen awareness that was quiet and strangely calming. Not like the puppy dog Alistair had been in the early days of the Blight.

The road back to Haven was full of even more questions, as Blackwall and Varric bounced them off of her. Back and forth they went, their curiosity about her travels never sated.

It was an odd notion, one that she caught herself smiling about, but she was actually looking forward to returning to the quaint and quietness of her little cottage. At least there, in her human bed and wooden walls, she could be alone without questions of her past assaulting her at every turn.


	9. In Dreams

The world around her toiled with unrest.

The black waves of the sea swelled and fell with thick oily blackness that threatened to consume the shore while thick grey clouds let loose a rain that pounded against the sand, loud and deafening over the clank of steel and the crackle of magic.

All around her, strangers faces grimaced and growled as they danced to the familiar steps of battle. She fell into rhythm with the rest of them, her magic humming to the music of steel sliding over steel. Her body did the motions, stepping to the beat of grunting as men and women came to blows. Her magic crescendoed with the waves.

But a weariness made her steps slow and tired, making her step out of beat from time to time. Her heart just wasn't in it. While battle swirled around her, thoughts of sleep and dreams consumed her mind. What she would give for a full night's rest.

The battle finally came to an end and a large qunari with long pointed horns approached her. He was all muscle, broad and tall with arms that could crush her with barely a twitch. She craned her head back to look at him, the rain pelted her in the face, cold and angry.

"So you're with the Inquisition, huh? Glad you could make it. Come on, have a seat. Drinks are coming."

"Well fought," said she. Though truth be told, she hadn't really been watching. Her mind had been elsewhere. "I hear you're looking for work." They both moved to sit on a sturdy log.

"I am! Not before my drink though." One of his Chargers brought them both a cup of ale which she gladly took. With the rain slanting into her mouth, she gulped down a mouthful of the sweetly bitter drink.

He introduced the Charger as his lieutenant, Cremisius Aclassi. As the three of them all drank down their ale, the qunari known as The Iron Bull bantered lovingly with his lieutenant, who gave it right back to him. From the short exchange she witnessed between the two, she could tell that the Iron Bull was unlike any qunari she had ever met.

With warmth flowing under her skin, a welcomed side effect of the alcohol, the qunari and elf worked out their agreement for him and his Chargers to join the Inquisition. To her surprise, the fact that he was Ben Hassrath did not bother her. Perhaps it's because she understood how the qunari worked from all the time she spent with Sten.

Just like with Sten, she felt no malicious intent with the Iron Bull. In fact, she would even dare to say that she already liked him.

* * *

The sky was darkening by the minute, bringing a cold chill to the everlasting downpour. The cloth of her robes were soaked with rain, heavy and chilling to the bone. It did not look like the clouds would relent anytime soon.

When she came across an abandoned wooden structure on a hill overlooking the coast, she decided it best to make camp for the night.

The structure would provide shelter from the rain, but the chill of the air would make sleeping in wet clothes unbearable. A fire was desperately needed, but trying to find dry wood was like trying to find a needle in a haystack. With determination, she sought to dry out a couple of logs with her magic.

"Here," Iron Bull said from behind her, making her jump at the sudden interruption of her concentration. "I have some oil on me. That should help get a fire going."

With a nod, she moved to the center of the shelter, stacking the logs to allow airflow to stoke the flames. She knew that the logs would not stay lit on their own, so she rummaged through her pack for some kindling to burn. Something dry and flammable.

She pulled out a journal that they had found while tracking the movements of a Grey Warden. Her hand brushed gently over the soggy leather that bound the pages together. The thought of burning it crossed her mind for a second before she quickly shoved it back into her bag. Finding such things always brought up memories she wished to be left alone.

Luckily Varric had found something worth burning as he shoved some crumpled pieces of parchment under the logs. Iron Bull drizzled the thick oil onto the paper and wood and stood back. With a flick of her wrist, Lynara lit the kindling on fire, watching as it ate at the oil, growing on its power and flickering brightly with hunger.

It was warm and beautiful.

Everyone huddled around the flames, relishing in the heat. No one seemed to mind their close proximity. Even Vivienne, covered in mud and sand, was perfectly content sitting side by side with a dirt covered dwarf and musky scented qunari.

"You know, Viv, you're not bad with that staff," Iron Bull casually quipped into the quiet night. Lynara saw the mage bristle in the glow of the fire.

"You will address me as Enchanter Vivienne, Court Mage to the Empire of Orlais, or Madame de Fer," she said proudly, pointing her chin into the air. "Not Viv."

"Oh. Right, ma'am. Sorry, ma'am."

Lynara stifled a smirk as the Iron Bull hung his head low. So the mage was self righteous with everyone, not just her.

"Hmmm. Yes, 'ma'am' works well."

Self righteous, indeed.

"This place is most unpleasant, wouldn't you agree?" Vivienne turned her attention towards Lynara, her lips pursed with displeasure. "I surely hope we will not linger here."

"Fear not, Lady Vivienne, we will head back to Haven at first light," she said her title through tight lips, hating the pretentiousness of it all. It made her think of Sera and she wondered what she would say to this egotistical woman. The thought made her want to smile.

"It's unfortunate that the Grey Warden's trail has gone cold. I was hoping we'd find something here," said Blackwall. Lynara found herself humming in agreement. She too wished they had found something of substance in regards to their disappearance. Instead they merely found old correspondences left behind in the storm.

"Somethings funny about you," Iron Bull cut into the conversation, his breath thick with the smell of ale. The fruity notes in the air made Lynara thirst for some of the brew herself. Her hand reached instinctively towards the wine skin she had filled with the brew before the Chargers had gone their separate way back to Haven.

"Oh?" Blackwall asked, taking a swig from his own leather skin.

"Yeah. You talk about Grey Wardens and honor and sacrifice and griffons, but you're still not convinced."

"Not convinced?"

"Yes, you know what I mean."

"And you know this because? We hardly know each other."

"I'm a people person," Bull chuckled, throwing back a swig of his ale.

She watched the exchange with mild curiosity. So Bull sensed it too, she noted. The alcohol made her want to be bold, to call him out for his lack of taint. But something told her now was not the time or place. No, such accusations should wait.

"Maybe it's because of his dark and troubled past," said Varric with a smirk, his words slurring. Vivienne did not seem amused by all the drinking, which only made Lyanra want to drink more.

"Excuse me?" said Blackwall, a guarded and dark expression casting over his weary black eyes.

"You have one, of course. Someone dear to you? Someone you failed to save?"

"Or a grave error in judgement, causing too many deaths?" interjected Bull.

"Oooh, maybe betrayal! That's always good," quipped the dwarf.

"No," Blackwall stiffened, crossing his arms sternly over his broad chest.

"Oh, come on! You've got to give me something."

"No, I don't. This conversation is over."

Varric sighed, his shoulders deflating with defeat, just like all the times they did when Lynara denied him a juicy story. "Touchy," he grumbled. "Well since grumpy won't give us a story, how bout you Hero?"

Taking another sip of her ale, she gave the dwarf a toothy grin. Of course he would turn the attention towards her. He always did.

"Once upon a time there was a dwarf who pushed his luck with Patience. One day Patience had been pulled too thin and decided enough was enough. So Patience patiently waited for the dwarf to fall asleep and in the dead of night, Patience shaved the dwarf's chest hair, leaving him naked and ashamed for everyone to see come the morning. The dwarf, learning his lesson, never pushed his luck again. The end."

The group chuckled as Varric rolled his eyes and bristled at the poorly told parable. To Lynara's surprise, Vivienne tried to hide her amusement behind her hand.

After being shut down, Varric decided he was done trying to get his companions to open up, finishing off his ale without another word.

A silence wrapped around the group, the only sounds that could be heard was the slanting of rain against wood and the soft crackling of the fire.

* * *

_A long, dark hallway stretched before her. The creaking of the floorboards paired with the tittering of a voice in the distance made Lynara clench her jaw with uneasiness. The orphanage had been long abandoned, and when she looked behind her, she realized that she was alone._

_Something other than her own free will pulled her forward, down the long narrow hallway. Blood splatters stained the floor and something dark weighed heavy in the air. A presence that she couldn't place or name. It lingered all around her, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand on edge._

_Several doors led away from the hallway, but whenever she tried to open one, she was greeted by a black abyss. Something told her that if she stepped into it, there would be no turning back, so she quickly moved away from the darkness, heading towards the light at the end of the corridor. It beckoned her like a moth to a flame._

_A flash of light caught her attention, a luminescent figure skittered across the hallway towards an open door. Without thinking, she followed after it, an unknown force driving her forward. _

_A sense of dread started to curl inside her chest, the dark presence looming in the atmosphere making it difficult for her to breath, to think straight. Instincts told her to keep moving forward, so she did, despite the fact that her brain told her to turn back._

_All of a sudden, a voice could be heard, echoing eerily through the hallway. A child's voice recited a nursery rhyme, the tune fading in and out of memory as she was pulled forward. Laughter resounded inside of her mind, a voice that belonged to someone else, that much she was certain of. It cackled like a witch, sharp and harsh in her head._

_She finally came to a door and when she looked behind her, there was nothing but blackness. No corridor, no light. Nothing. Her only option was to move forward._

_The door surprisingly made no noise as she pushed it open. The only sound that she heard was the sound of her own gasp as she saw the corpses of small elven children strewn about the empty room. Pools of stale blood staining the wooden floors. A dark presence hung heavily in the air, making her fall to her knees at the weight of it._

_The room grew increasingly hot, sweat began to bead on her forehead. The air was thick and stale and full of iron, making it difficult to breath. She gasped for breath, pulling at the collar of her robe in a desperate attempt to let air through. _

_Suddenly, she felt a searing white pain piercing her chest. When she looked down, she saw a sharp pitchfork protruding from her breast, black daggers covered in her own blood. Panic and pain blasted through her body as she watched her life blood seep rapidly from her body. A haziness deteriorated her vision and she could feel herself fading into blackness._

_Before it could consume her, a light flashed across her vision and electricity jolted through her, jarring her from the clutches of death._

She convulsed forward with a wild gasp, eyes wide and heart beating furiously in her chest. A thick sheen of sweat covered her forehead and her clothes were wet, but not from the rain. Trying to catch her breath, she looked around frantically to see that she was awake and alive.

It was just a dream, she told herself over and over again.

It was just a dream.

* * *

The world was quiet outside her window, an unnerving contrast to the weather worn road she traveled on her way back from the Storm Coast. The slick muddy squelch of boots and hooves sliding in muck coupled with Vivienne's complaints about the mire and cold rain had grated her nerves.

And then there was the insistent innuendos, jokes, and the banter between The Iron Bull, Varric, and Blackwall. Normally she would have enjoyed such conviviality, but the dreary weather had done a number on her psyche. The dreams, or nightmares rather, haunted her thoughts. It seemed they were getting worse.

Settling in for the night, she nestled into her human bed, back resting against the carved wooden headboard. A worn and tattered journal rested in her hands. The pages were smudged with ink, waterlogged from the constant rain that the angry grey clouds had emptied onto the Storm Coast. Her eyes, tired with the weight of a long journey back to Haven scanned across the clumsily written words. Words of a fellow Grey Warden. A Dalish elf, to her surprise.

The words on the opened page caught her attention more than the others. She found herself reading them again and again, feeling a sadness pull at her heart.

_The dreams continue, as they do every night. They make it hard for us to sleep, but we must persist. Hopefully the others will have found a solution by the time we return. In the meantime, I sing the song of Andruil to myself to clear my mind as best I can._

At least she was not alone in this struggle.

A sudden restfulness pulled at her mind, the idea of sleep was an unpleasant thought as the bitter taste of dark dreams rose to her tongue. The journal abruptly closed in her lap and she tossed it aside as she rose from her bed. An unusual need to pace drove her to move back and forth in front of the hearth as her mind shied away from the prospect of sleep.

There had to be some way to ease this burden, for she could not avoid sleep forever.

Without giving it much thought, she reached for her cloak and pulled it around her shoulders, fastening the clasp under her neck. The heavy wool embraced her, a comforting weight that felt as if it was holding her together.

As she stepped out into the cold night, the quiet of Haven sent a chill down her spine. The whole world was still except for the lazy flecks of white that ebbed slowly to and fro down onto the earth. Everything was so at peace. What she would give to be able to ascertain such a calm within herself.

Without realizing it, she found herself in front of Solas' cottage, surprised to see vibrant light radiating from the windows. It was late into the night, what was he doing still awake, she wondered.

Before she could talk herself out of it, her hand was knocking on his door, a quick and firm rasp resounding through the stillness. A part of her wished he was actually asleep, that she would have to turn around and head back to her cottage for the night.

This hope quickly died when he opened the door. He stood lazily against the door frame, his white tunic falling loosely over him as he looked down at her. A curved eyebrow rose as he opened his mouth to speak.

"I would like to take you up on what you said before," she said quickly.

"Oh? And what is that?" Solas asked with a guarded, albeit curious expression, his arms crossing over his chest as he tilted his head slightly to the side.

"You are somniari, yes?" she asked hesitantly. His lack of response pushed her to air her thoughts to him. "You have control over dreams..." she trailed off, her voice wavering with emotion. This was something she wanted to be able to do, but to learn how to do so, it also meant opening up to a man who had the tendency to openly judge her. She felt incredibly vulnerable under his scrutinizing stare.

"Indeed, this is true. You wish to know more about this ability?" he asked.

Her blonde head bobbed, loose tendrils falling from her braids. "Would now be an okay time to talk about it?" she asked warily, her eyes peering behind her into the quiet night of Haven. The world was still around her, the tavern dim and quiet, the stars cold and distant.

"Come in," he said, unfolding his arms and stepping aside to welcome her into his quaint cottage.

It was slightly smaller than hers, but was similar in style and warmth. The anxious weight on her shoulders was instantly lifted as the door behind her closed and she was greeted by the crackling sound of the hearth and the subtle amalgamation of mint and lemon that she recognized as elfroot. It was a scent that reminded her of home.

"What do you wish to know?" he asked, his voice was surprisingly close to her ears. When she turned around, she had to tilt her head upwards to meet his gaze. His cool blue stare was still guarded, but warmer than usual as he peered down at her.

"When you sleep, you dream in a way that allows you to walk the Fade freely. You can shape it to your will. I wish to know how you do it," she said, watching his reaction carefully. A slight glint of surprise sparked in his eye before they returned to their guarded, emotionless state.

"Most mages are weary of such power due to fear of possession," he responded easily.

"I have had my fair share of encounters with demons. I do not fear such things."

"A bold statement, one that would frighten the Chantry," he said, a shadow of a smirk pulling at his lip. "I, however, feel as you do on the matter."

Something they finally agreed on, her heart brightened with relief at the idea. "Then you will teach me?"

"Why do you wish to learn this?" he asked, his broad figure seemed to be looming over her now as she felt the weight of what he was asking. The realization that she would have to admit something rather personal. With a heavy sigh, she resigned herself to the idea of opening up to a man she hardly trusted just so she could find some sense of peace.

"Ever since a young age, I have experienced vivid dreaming," she explained, her gaze looking away from him, focusing on a distant sconch outside the window, flickering with a dull, fading flame. Anything to occupy her vision from the intensity of his stare.

"When I grew older, specifically when I became a Grey Warden, the dreaming became… dark. Nightmares mostly. It's a rare treat that I get to sleep peacefully through the night. I was hoping…" she trailed off, letting her eyes return to his. His gaze turned somewhat soft, which was a relief to find. She took a breath, gathering her pride. "I was hoping you could help me."

A flicker of a smile flashed onto his previously passive expression. Maybe there was more to him under his cold and guarded exterior. It would make this a whole lot easier if there was.

"I will do what I can," he said. "But learning to be a somniari will not come easy. There are few who are able to ascertain such power."

"I must try," she said with resolve, unknowingly puffing out her chest like a bird. He met her confidence, even if it was a facade, with a proud smile that warmed his eyes.

"Then let us get started," he said, motioning towards the main room of the cottage.

What he was insinuating made the nerves in her body crackle like electricity. The realization that she was about to let him in was a terrifying thought.

"What do you need me to do?" she asked with an air of skepticism. Her courage slowly deflated with her chest as her shoulders sagged.

"Lucid dreaming is a magical act," Solas explained as he rummaged through his travel pack for a vile of lyrium. "A great amount of power will be needed to be able to influence the Dreaming with little to no experience," he handed her the vial, his warm skin brushing over hers for just a second as she took it from him. The nervous electricity in her veins flared at his touch.

The lyrium in her hand hummed under her touch and it shimmered against the glass vial. Without thinking, she uncorked the vial and brought it up to her lips. The liquid was robust and full of heat as it slide vibrantly down her throat. The power of the lyrium sang to her blood, made her eyes flare with vivid color as it overflowed her already full mana pool. The overabundance of power made her head swim with vibrations, it was overwhelming. Blinding even.

In her daze, Solas guided her over to the same Orlesian bed that occupied her cottage, the familiar feel of the feathers as he pushed her onto the mattress was comforting. However, the realization that he was looming over her as she lay vulnerably on his bed made blush rush to her already burning cheeks.

"What are you doing?" she asked, panic rising in her voice. The power of the lyrium screaming through her veins muted her senses, making it difficult to comprehend what she was seeing, let alone feeling. She needed some kind of release.

"Fall asleep," he said. "Will yourself into the Fade."

Such was easier said than done, she realized as she closed her eyes. Thoughts of the Fade and the Dreaming were at the forefront of her mind, but the power buzzing in her veins made it near impossible for her to slip into the comfort of sleep. All she could focus on was the dizziness in her head, the heat on her skin, and the presence of Solas hovering over her.

"I can't," she sighed in defeat, her eyes opening to find his face drawn with consternation. "How can I fall asleep when I am overflowing with lyrium and you are staring so harshly at me."

His expression softened and he backed away slightly from the bed. "Of course. I have not properly explained what to do," he sighed. "I apologize. Understand that this is second nature for me and it is difficult to put it into words. No one has ever asked for me to explain this before."

Lynara closed her eyes, trying to think and feel around the buzzing in her brain. "Pretend I am a _da'len_. Pretend I know little about magic and the Fade."

Eyes still closed, she could hear him softly chuckle as he shuffled over to the chair next to the hearth a few feet away from the bed. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft and tender to her ear. "As I said before, it is a magical act to enter the Fade at will, so therefore, you must call upon the Fade to enter it, just as if you were calling upon lightning or manifesting your spirit blade," he explained, the tone of his voice was like medicine to her ears as it soothed the buzzing in her skull.

"With eyes closed, clear your mind, grab a hold of yourself, of your power. Then, when you are sure you have found it, reach for the Fade, just like you would reach for your spirit blade. Call the magic coursing under your skin, take hold of it, and push yourself across the veil."

His words echoed within her head, commanding her to do these things. Emptying herself of her thoughts, her worries, she felt the power beating within her veins, buzzing in her skull. With it, she reached towards the veil, penetrating it and pushing into the Fade.

A blackness overcame her consciousness and before she could grab a hold of herself, she was slipping into sleep, the Dreaming taking over.

The Fade manifested around her in a dreamy daze, heavy and dark around the edges of her vision. The last slip of her consciousness was snuffed out like a flame, pulling her into a familiar scene of the Deep Roads, a memory that the Fade played back with vivid realism.

There she saw herself with staff in hand, extended to light the way down the dark passage. Sacks of darkspawn taint covered the walls, oozing a murky purple liquid that dripped slowly onto the ground, making the stone halls slippery and sticky all at once.

"_First day, they come and catch everyone,"_ a monotone voice echoed through the hall. The cold memory crawled up her spine, making her shiver.

"_What was that, did you say something?_" her reflection asked, looking at Alistair with wide eyes.

"_Do I sound like a woman to you?"_ Alistair stammered, his voice rising in pitch as he did so. She raised an eyebrow at him, as if to prove her point._ "Heeeey," _he drawled.

Watching the interaction from the outside looking in made her head dizzy. It was surreal to see her own flesh and blood vividly in front of her. She wanted to reach out and touch herself, to warn her of what was to come.

How is this possible, she wondered.

"_Second day, they beat us and eat some for meat,"_ the voice spoke again, it's eerie tone bouncing around the stone corridor.

"_I'm not crazy, right? You guys are hearing this too?"_ Alistair and Wynne both nodded their heads simultaneously at her.

"_I think I need to lay off the booze,"_ Oghren breathed, swaying a little as he walked. Her dream self groaned, rolling her eyes at the dwarf. She found herself wanting to mirror the reaction.

"_Fourth day, we wait and fear for our fate."_

Suddenly, she felt a strangely warm presence manifest next to her. When she turned to her left, she was greeted by a familiar cool blue stare framed my long eyelashes. A smile crested on her lips at the sight of him.

"_Hey, don't run off!"_ Alistair called out after Lynara's memory as she ran down the corridor, picking up his pace to chase her down.

The rest of the party was rushing down the hall, leaving Solas and Lynara alone in the dark.

"How are you here?" she breathed, her hand reaching out to touch him, to see if he was real. Her fingers trailed down his arm, feeling the soft thread of his tunic underneath her touch. It felt so tangible and absolute.

"We are in the Fade, remember?" he asked, cocking his head to the side as he looked down at her.

She couldn't believe it.

Everything around her looked so real, the gilded walls of old dwarven empires glistening with a coldness that made goosebumps raise her flesh. Even the very palpable smell of the darkspawn taint was making her head swim with noisy whispers. How could this be just a dream, she wondered.

"You're sure?"

He nodded and took her hand in his, leading her down the corridor, where the memory of her past lingered.

"_Fifth day, they return and it's another girl's turn, sixth day, her screams we hear in our dreams."_

"No," she said, pulling her hand out of his grip, stopping short of the room that laid ahead. He turned to look at her, a curious expression pulling at his eyebrows. If this was the Fade, and this was a dream like he said it was, she didn't want to continue forward. This was a dream that she knew all too well.

"You need to confront whatever lies ahead."

This is not what she wanted, to lay out one of her most fearful memories, one of her weakest moments for Solas to see. It made her feel naked and exposed. Her arms came around her chest, as if she were attempting to hide herself from him.

"If you want control over your dreams, this is what must be done. I will not always be there to guide you, to tell you this is the Fade. If you can look at your nightmares without fear, you will be able to change them," he explained, his eyes looking sternly at her, forcing her to look up at him, to see the conviction on his face. He gestured towards the room that awaited them.

"_Ninth day, she grins and devours her kin. Now she does feast, as she's become the beast."_

They entered a room with a high ceiling, filled with flickering light and darkspawn taint. Dead bodies both dwarf and darkspawn scattered the floor, staining the gold tile of the floor a dark red. Before the pile of bodies was a female dwarf, hunched over the corpse of her kinsman. Her little hands pulled at the innards of the man, bloody meat dripping onto the woman's ragged and torn clothes as she brought the piece of meat up to her mouth and crunched into it, chewing with a growl before continuing her dark, disturbing poem again.

A ragged breath caught in her throat while the beating of her heart rang in her ears, drowning out thoughts as she looked onto the gruesome scene. It was as real as the first time she was here. It made all her past feelings come rushing back to her like water bursting from a dam.

The ghost of herself gasped at the sight, alerting the dwarf to their presence as she slowly stood and turned towards the party, her head twitching every which way as her hands curled and clawed at her own deteriorating skin. The dwarf's hazy purple eyes finally met Lynara's and there was one hundred years of pain inside them.

"_By my grandma's wrinkly ass, that's Hespith," _Oghren breathed.

"_What is this? An elf? Exotic and impossible,"_ she said, looking down with a ragged twitch of her head. _"Feeding time brings only kin and clan. I am cruel to myself. You are a dream of strangers faces and open doors." _

"What am I supposed to do?" she asked, wanting nothing more than to stop the progression of this dream. She turned towards Solas, looking for any kind of guidance he could give her, but he seemed entranced by what he saw.

"_First day, they come and catch everyone,"_ she started up again.

"_What is that chant?"_ Her past self asked before the dwarf could continue it again, her voice cracked with the words.

"_It's what I've seen. What I will become. I force it into verse so it is fantasy, unreal. That's the only place I can hide. Because they make me… they make me eat,"_ she paused, her hands coming up to pull at her thinning grey hair. "_And then all I could do was wish Laryn went first. I wished it upon her so that I would be spared. But I had to watch. I… had to see the change. How do you endure that. How did Branka endure?"_

"Solas," she said, moving in front of him to gather his attention, forcing him to look at her.

He gave her an apologetic look. "Try using your magic to influence what you see. To change it."

The scene around her continued to unfold, but Lynara tried to ignore it as she focused on her magic, on changing what was transpiring around her. The feeling of using magic inside of the Fade felt strange, the magic was quick to respond but it had a muted flavor on her tongue, like it was merely a shadow of her power. Hazy, like a dream.

With a wave of her hand, her mind willed for the darkspawn taint to disappear, for the air to be clean and breathable and not filled with death. The Fade around her hand shimmered, the air containing a hazy quality that vibrated for a couple seconds before snapping back into a clear picture.

Taint and death still poisoned her surroundings.

"I don't understand."

"The Fade reflects our thoughts, memories, and feelings. Perhaps your mind is not willing to change this memory just yet," he mused, following after Lynara's image.

Begrudgingly, she followed after him.

"_We tried to escape, but they found us. They took us all, turned us…" _Hespith's voice echoed in the stone corridor.

"_The men, they kill… they're merciful. But the women they want. They want to touch, to mold, to change until you are filled with them."_

Even though she had heard this countless of times in her dreams, Lynara shivered at the dwarf's hate filled words. Images of darkspawn hands touching her, clawing at her skin made her stomach churn uneasily.

"_They took Laryn. They made her eat the others, our friends. She tore off her husbands face and drank his blood."_

A sadness washed over her as she watched her past self relive such an awful memory. It made her increasingly uncomfortable as she witnessed herself growing more and more weak, her strong facade wavering thin.

The ghost of her crumbled in front of them, bending over to expel her stomach onto the stone floor. Alistair was next to her in a flash, his shaky hand on her back. With a groan, she pushed him away, another wave of nausea forcing her to vomit again, but this time her body only heaved as there was nothing left in her stomach.

It was increasingly uncomfortable to watch, she had to look away.

"_I don't know if I can keep going,"_ she had said through ragged breaths, bringing her hand up to wipe her mouth.

Those words resonated strongly within her. "How do I wake up?"

"What?" Solas said, whipping around to look at her. "You do not wish to see this through?"

"_We have to," _Alistair cut in with a low voice.

"_I don't want to see anymore," _her image breathed, closing her eyes as she straightened her back against the stone wall._ "I can't bear it."_

"Wake me up!" she demanded, throat thick with dread.

"Very well." Solas waved his hand just so and the world around her started to phase out at the edges.

The ball of dread in her throat started to unravel and a sense of peace washed over her like a river washing her clean. Darkness pulled her under only to be replaced by a dim, wavering light of a fire unattended for hours.

She sat up quickly as she gulped for air. The sudden pull of reality was overwhelming, the taste of the warm, stale air dried out her mouth while the sound of her beating heart deafened her ears. Without looking at Solas, who was now awake and unnervingly calm, she stood from the bed and rubbed at her temples, smoothing out the headache that threatened to form there.

From the corner of her eye, she saw him stand from his chair, stepping closer to her as if he was going to comfort her. "Would you like to talk about it?" he asked, his voice soft with some kind of emotion. Whether it was concern or pity, she could not say.

Suddenly the shame of her weakness slapped her in the face, making her step away with shock. "I need to go."

Without looking back, she rushed into the early dawn to face her fears alone.

* * *

AN: Hey guys! Sorry for the delay. We've been super short staffed at work so I've been really tired. And let's just say being tired does not produce creativity lol. Anyways, hope you enjoy the chapter! I really wanted to include the Deep Roads scene because it's one of my favorite moments in DAO. So dark and messed up. I just really this part in DAO would mentally scar a female Warden. So I wanted to show that here. Let me know your thoughts!

Thanks 3


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